Shootin' It Straight - First First Time

I deal with multiple people every week who are new to the area or just passing through. A common theme many of them share is how beautiful this place is. They gush over the scenery, the nature, and the unobtrusive nature of it all. They fall in love with the backroads, laid back neighbors, and small-town restaurants. All their reaction and fanfare reminds me of just how much I take for granted.

I was traveling around the county during these beautiful early fall days when the thought occurred to me that I would love to experience so many things again for the first time.

That newfound freedom of grabbing third gear again while topping the hill on 290 in a sub-thousand-dollar truck. The sun cutting through scratched glass across a faded blue dashboard and onto the faded jeans of a young man without a care in the world beyond the next quarter tank of House's gas. I'd give immeasurable amounts to live it all again.

That first night spent on the riverbank sleeping on the ground. The sounds of the night closing in as moisture falls on everything, making clothes damp and cool. The sight of the full moon rising through the trees, intertwined with Bowling's smoke from a full power Marlboro as he pulls the last drag before noisily shoving the butt into a clanking Ale-8 bottle.

Cranking that Honda 50 off and holding it steady with a healthy amount of nervousness as your eldest climbs aboard without the slightest hesitation. The sound of a small bore Japanese four stroke ripping over the hill as he disappears with zero experience and all the confidence in the world. What I'd give to bottle up that first time feeling and preserve it on a shelf.

To meet you all over again, walking into my life with bootcut jeans and shiny boots. To stand hand in hand, staring into the Atlantic with all the magic hovering around us, akin to electricity. To toss those pebbles once more in the simplest of acts. Counting stars upon wet grass only happens for the first time once.

The first time for everything only comes around once. Those experiences arrive unexpectedly and scurry away like a thief in the night. Soak it up when that first comes along.

In a truck bed with the radio playing or sitting atop the Rockies, those firsts become increasingly rare with age simply because of the amount of life you've already lived. The third time or number fifty may all be special, but that first time experience often holds a little extra magic.

The sound of your first concert during your developmental years. That initial brush of skin that ignites electricity. The feeling of your buddy's old hot rod shoving you into the seat on launch.

File them away for a rainy day.

Bury them as deep as you like, but somewhere down the road, they'll be brought back to the surface. A sound, a smell, a visual, or all of the above will shake your soul and take you right back.

Enjoy all the firsts until your last.