(it may look like your Senior High School Prom minus the rented limo, the sparkling white wine, the puffy gown you’d rather forget, or the flowery broche that desperately needs some water)
First times are like pearls on a never ending necklace, they bring memories back.
The first time you drank a cup of coffee ☕️ as a teen bragging with your BFF as you entered in a coffee shop without your parents.
The first time you drove a car ???? trying to remain composed, internally squeeeaaaaaling with joy (like a kitten high on catnip), and keeping your fingers crossed there won’t be a sudden volcano eruption or a flying saucer crossing the road out of no where. (Hint: at 3PM on a country side, driving at 20mph, there are few odds)
The first time you had a crush ???? , feeling your cheeks blushing, your heart pumping quicker than a 90’s boys band hit, unable to put a noun and a verb together to say a proper sentence.
The first time you packed your bag for a solo trip to London wondering if you’ll have enough spare room to buy loose leaf Earl Grey tea from Wittard, a limited edition from Hamlet on Oxford Street and a DVD set of Rosemary & Thyme for your Mum. (needless to mention the dozens of others treats like scones, marmelade, and THE hard-to-pronounce-for-a-French famous sauce).
The first time you went all in & cut your bang so short you looked like a living Lego character (minus the cup-like hands ????)
The first time you naively sign up for that new social media/ community-friendly online place where you could keep up with your old friends from kinder garden & feel close to your beloved aunt Terry who lives off grid with her 12 dogs and a raven… until it turned into the (in)famous and controversial blue thing.
The first time you brushed over your need for a bang cut & looked like a Highland sheep ???? before the wool is cut… fluffy.
The first time you saw a 18-month chubby baby ???????? smiling and laughing at you with all his toothless but drooling mouth (even your 250-lbs Saint Bernard met its drooling Master that day)
The first time you happily ate a chocolate until you realized it was full of Brandy and there’s no way to spit it out gracefully in front of your Great Granny and the 29 pairs of family eyes looking at you.
The first time you tried high heels ???? wondering how on Earth you’re supposed to find your gravity center stuck on those two sticks without the help of a physician or a super calculator.
The first time you accompanied your BFF to her daily yoga practice wishing to be at your dental appointment instead of doing another sun salutation… Blessed be the corpse pose, you’re not a Cirque du Soleil superstar (yet).
The first time you were more excited than a 5-year-old on Christmas day (assuming the big fluffy beard guy in red spoiled you with a brand new firefighter truck with a built-in alarm that will turn your parents crazy by snack time.. You don’t want me to buy your kids some presents, do you?) to enter into the Green Mermaid Coffee Temple.
Where you need a PhD in coffee-logy to order, a Master degree in alien language, and all your fingers crossed to drink a double-shot-chocolate-syrup loaded-extra-tall-maxi-grande-lactose free-coffee with a fake name on the cup because your real name is nobody’s business. (Hint: a formal donation to receive Angel support is always appreciated, so is a prayer to Mother Nature).
The first time you wore a formal dress & got your hair done for your cousin’s wedding. Apparently, going to a wedding implies turning yourself into a smart blend of meringue and hungry porcupine ???? loaded with bobby pins, security pins, rose thorns, and a good old bunch of spikes to keep any Human at two arms length. Maybe, it’s an ancestral way to remind us that wedding is at higher stake than betting your life in a Vegas Casino.
The first time you packed your 27 stuff animals, 393 tonnes of yellow legal pads, 946,738 small notebooks (or not so small), 2,4 billions of watercolor pencils, as well as 4,9 gazillions of manga alcohol markers to live by yourself in a teeny tiny place you called home sweet home.
The first time you picked “How To Be Everything” on your library shelf, just for fun. You were waiting for the Venti caramel mocha to cool down (remember it ?????????).. ‘cos, unlike your beloved Great Granny, your throat isn’t made out of titanium, yet.
As you went through the first chapter, a small lightbulb???? started to shine timidly. A pale flickering glimmer. A tiny breach into the dark ages. Slowly growing. Slowly shining brightly. And, by the time, you reached chapter 3, flamboyant Wacken-worthy fireworks are lit in your mind, in your soul, and in your heart.
You kept reading. You kept learning. You vividly researched. You crashed your browser with 539,759 Google searches. You scribbled loads of Moleskine notebooks.
You’re ecstatic. You joyfully bounce between cloud 9 and a deep sigh of relief. Congratulations, you’re a multipotentialite!
Every breakthrough starts with ONE eye opening moment.
Every breakthrough starts with a first time experience.
Every breakthrough starts with you.