In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “First!.”:

Tell us about your first day at something — your first day of school, first day of work, first day living on your own, first day blogging, first day as a parent, whatever.

It’s interesting to think about the ‘firsts’ we actually remember and those we seem to forget. I can clearly remember my first day of high school, my first week of University, my first day living in another country by myself, my first kiss and my first time driving a car. Yet, beyond that, I can’t remember the first time I rode on a train or a plane, nor the first time I took the bus by myself into town to socialise, nor can I remember the first time I spoke or the first thing I saw. Those latter two would arguably be the most important.

I guess, for most of the ‘firsts’ I can’t remember, I have repeated those actions so often that they have become almost insignificant to my life. They are no longer the ideas I make my memories out of. But, I wonder why this is. Why can I only remember a few of my ‘first times’? Have I only remembered the most important ones or the times that I have chosen to remember?

I wonder when the next time will be that I do something for the first time.


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