Dec 25, 2015 16:26
There are a lot of firsts today; our first green Christmas (it is 48 degrees outside. FORTY-EIGHT.) our first Christmas anywhere else other than Marquette, our first Christmas as married people. This week we made our first gingerbread house, cappelletti, Christmas eve dinner. Firsts are weird, but necessary.
When people say 'remember your first time?' they're usually talking about sex, but I'm always thinking about other firsts. At eighteen, when mama casually asked me to pick up Nonna for dinner-- it was the first time I ever drove a car by myself with no passengers. The first time I flew, holding onto the seat for dear life as the blood rattled in my veins launching across the sky to Detroit. The first time I skinny dipped, the moon on the horizon over the edge of the lake looking like the eye of God. The first time I held Matti's hand as the music swelled in Kaufman auditorium. I'm thinking about first bad haircuts, first accidents, first funerals. Firsts are terrifying, but nothing ever happens without them. Something, someone, has to go before the rest. How do you go forward without moving? The shift is strange.
Hold your breath and jump; the water is always cold at first. Don't fret. It warms up.
firsts,
christmas