There is nothing in the world like a ‘first’ and sadly there is no way to get back a ‘first’ once it’s passed you.

First impressions, first glances, first kisses… the first time.

These are things we tend to remember, and not just remember, but carry with us throughout our lives.

I was in the third grade the first time I held hands with a boy. His name was Pete. Later, in the 8th grade, I would run into Pete again and ‘date’ him for a short time before my mother got mad about a gold bracelet he had given me that she thought he’d stolen and she made me break up with him.

When I was 13 years old, in seventh grade, I had my first real, grown-up kiss. See, back in sixth grade, Jason Samp kissed me on the cheek, and later, a guy named Russ kissed me on the lips, but both were pecks.

My first real kiss was with a guy named Eddie Brooks. Eddie was about three years older than me, and he looked like the 80s version of John Bon Jovi, seriously. He had the hair the tight jeans, the skinny body, and the nice, pouty lips.

When he kissed me, my lips trembled slightly and I remember being so embarrassed when he said, “That was wicked cool.”

Then my father, who was watching out the window of the business my parents owned while I was growing up, came outside and moved his blazer (truck) from in front of the window so that they could ‘see’ me and ‘keep an eye on us’. The entire time, he was glaring darts and bullets with his eyes at Eddie.

Like teenagers grow up and don’t have their first real kiss until they have moved out, right?

I suppose it would have been nice to have been able to come in all excited and share the first kiss with my mom, but our family just wasn’t like that.

However, I do remember my daughter’s first kiss too – her first real kiss, and how excited she was and how she came in all jumping up and down and told ME, her lowly mother, all about it before she got on the phone and called all her friends.

I had never been prouder as a mother… it’s nice to know my children feel comfortable enough to share those things with me. My son is 13 now, and he’s already had his first kiss too, and he came home right after and told all over us about it, very proudly.

I remember my first time to kiss Ryan. It was a long time ago, over 20 years ago or so. We were sitting on the couch in my house at the time, when I lived over on the old West side of town, and there we sat, him leaving for college that week, knowing it was the last night we’d sit on the couch like that together…

… and we kissed, for the first time. It was everything a kiss should have been. I won’t ever forget it. Tender, romantic, perhaps even a little bit desperate, after all, he was leaving.

Then, years later, I remember my second ‘first’ kiss with him when we started dating again. Maybe you can get a second chance at a first, huh?

That first kiss was actually a kiss on my forehead the first night we went out on a date together. It was in October. It was so sweet, him standing on my porch, having unlocked and opened the door for me, and then a tender kiss on the forehead, a warm hug and he was gone.

Some things you just don’t forget.

Firsts.

* I remember the first time I ever drove a car all by myself.
* I remember my first kiss, first date, and ‘first time’.
* I remember my first drink after turning 21.
* I remember the first time I held both of my children in my arms.
* I remember the first time I finished a novel and that feeling of accomplishment and relief.
* I remember the first time I held a copy of my first book.
* I remember my first pet.

Of course, not all firsts are ‘good,’ per se.

* I remember my first broken heart.
* I remember the first time a man hit me.
* I remember the first time I was cheated on.
* I remember the first time I was in a wreck.
* I remember the first time one of my kids got hurt.
* I remember the first time I ever broke a bone (have broken at least 15 bones in my life, but that’s another story altogether).
* I remember the first time someone close to me lied to me and broke my trust.
* I remember the first time I got drunk.
* I remember when my first pet died.

I could list more, but for the sake of the blog, since I tend to ramble and run on too long anyway, I will stop there.

I don’t want to forget the ‘bad’ memories, because even though they seemed bad at the time, now that I’m on the other side of them, they make for amusing stories and great blog and novel fodder for me, and in truth, they make up the character of who I am.

As long as I like who I am, and you know, here recently, I find I really do like who I am, then I wouldn’t want to change one single thing about my life, or else I’d risk everything unraveling and losing what I have now. No, everything that’s happened makes up the core of who I am.

And I like me.

Okay, so you guys tell me some of your firsts, good or bad, happy or sad… what firsts just really stick out for you?

Thanks for sharing your memories with me today!

Love and stuff,
Michy