Do you remember your first?

Do you remember your firsts?
 

I do. How can I forget moments that changed the trajectory of my life?

The first day of our Jewish New year, Rosh Hashanah, begins at sundown Sunday. I love this holiday, a time of reflection and renewal. As I chose recipes, set the table, and eagerly awaited my son's arrival from college, I started thinking about the word "first."

This word, a five mere letters, nestled into my head. So I decided to consult my friend Oxford. I typed f-i-r-s-t into my search engine. Apparently I’m not the only linguistically-obsessed person. There are multiple explanations for “first,” and even the number one — the first — definition has meanings within the initial heading. Here are a few:

Ordinal number:

1. Coming before all others in time or order; earliest; 1st.

Synonyms

1.1 Never previously done or occurring. 

1.2 Coming or encountered next after a specified or implied time, event.

1.3 Before doing something else specified or implied.

1.4 For the first time.

1.5 The first occurrence of something notable. 

1.6 A first edition of a book.

Foremost in position, rank, or importance.

Clearly I was not exaggerating because this sampling is just the start of a lengthy list! If you’re still reading, thanks for hanging in there! I will stop here and share why this word packs a punch.

The Oxford Dictionary definitions did not satiate me. A few years ago, I asked my kids about their perspective. Between sips of soup, I said, “What comes to mind when I say the word “first?”

My first born replied. “First in line. First place. First impression.” Todd is now a junior in college. I asked him again recently. His response shifted to “First love. First try.”

Zoe looked toward the lake. She said, “A new birth or somebody coming in the world. To start something fresh.” When I asked her the question this week, her reply was “a beginning, new start, the unknown.”

My kids continue to be the greatest teachers in my life. And mothering them has catapulted my own growth.

For me, I think about my first kiss, my first pregnancy, my first audition, my first day of college, my first job. My heart’s tempo triples as I think about the first time I met my husband. I smile while reflecting on the first piece I published at twelve years old.

Life isn’t always peppered with positive firsts. The phrase “It’s the first day of the year” is spoken on January first. And it’s also used within “sweet and healthy wishes” as many Jewish people, including me, celebrate Rosh Hashanah. Then I thought about “the first holiday without a loved one” or another pivotal time that may evoke sadness rather than joy.

Some of my “firsts” that ought to have been celebratory, meaningful, and acknowledged were instead ignored and dismissed. This realization eventually intensified to a pain that I numbed through perpetual giving — not to myself but to my family, friends, profession, and community. I ignored it, made excuses for it, and compartmentalized it. Until the first time I chose differently--I chose me.

When I was younger, I didn’t realize that hurt and harm could transmute into strength and purpose. My path is comprised of radiance and resilience. It is unapologetic, unfiltered, and unwavering. It wasn't always this way. And it certainly isn't easy.

I believe sharing our stories connects us to ourselves and to others. Writing is how I make sense of the madness, the magic, and the moments in between. This won’t be the last time I learn from the firsts.