The first day of school is time to celebrate life’s beginnings
10th grade, you’ve learned how to judge the personality of a grownup in charge. You know something about mood management and making the best of a tough situation. You’ve also discovered that nothing lasts forever, including your time with a yeller. Besides, on the first day of school anything is possible.
About a week later, on the eve of her new academic year, the fifthgrader ticked off her class schedule and goals with confidence. These goals, by the way, had nothing to do with school, but the start of school apparently had inspired her to come up with a plan. She would do a variety of daily stretching exercises in preparation for dance competition season. After we hung up, she sent me three videos illustrating these gravity-defying poses in case I might want to contort myself in ways I never thought possible.
“I’m not Gumby,” I informed her later.
“Gumby?” she echoed, confused.
Oh, forget it.
Anyway, the beauty of first days is similar to the importance of firsts in general. After all, not everything momentous lasts for hours. Some important occasions are over in a blink, others evolve languidly. If we’re fortunate, we experience a first kiss, a first car, a first love, a first job and, of course, a first paycheck. Really our lives are filled with firsts, their surprises and their hopes — and in certain instances, their disappointments, too.
Talking with my firstday-of-school grandkids got me thinking about how, over the years, my firsts have dwindled to almost nothing. In fact, they are so sporadic that I’m embarrassed to admit I had forgotten that exhilaration of new expectations, the scary soaring that comes when a door opens to an unknown future.
I imagine this complacency holds true for others of a certain age. Our world, and our place in it, is pretty much settled in our late 60s, and sometimes before that, too. By then, we have planted and sown, begun and ended, climbed and descended, triumphed and failed, moved and settled. Sure, we may still enjoy first-of-its-kind events, but they tend to be infrequent.
It doesn’t have to be that way, I suppose. We don’t have to act our age. We don’t have to surrender the sense of wonder. We are as entitled to butterflies in our stomach as those much younger. A mature life shouldn’t exclude daring, even if it’s minimal.
We can make our own “firsts” if we’re brave enough. We can open a new door if we want it enough. Or… we can choose to approach the mundane with the anticipation of the first day of kindergarten. In that case, I would really, really like a box of 64-count Crayola crayons. With a sharpener, please. I never owned one, and it’s about time I did.
Ana Veciana-Suarez writes about family and social issues. Email her at avecianasuarez@gmail.com or visit her website anavecianasuarez.com. Follow @AnaVeciana.