Firsts are obvious as we lead and accompany kids through this one wild and precious life, as Mary Oliver described it. We pay attention to the first bath, first solid food, first friend, first day of school. My son bought his first vehicle a couple of weeks ago. It was both wild and precious.
Lasts are a different animal. We only notice them in hindsight if we notice them at all. The last time he needed me to tie his shoes. Last time she needed my help to give her a bath. Last book I read to him. Last time I cut her steak for her. Last time I picked them all up from school.
This week, I wonder whether this will be the last New Year’s Eve we spend together as a five-person crew. I planned a menu and a few goofy games in an attempt to stay awake until midnight, and I keep pondering whether this last day of the year is one of those hidden lasts. Kids are built to move on to bigger things that do not involve a mom making mocktails, but we never know when we have entered new territory until suddenly we have arrived. Suddenly there will be four of us, then three, then…
I do not dread the descending order, but I don’t want to completely miss the lasts, either.
You could say every last leads to a first. The last New Year’s Eve together will lead to his first New Year’s Eve with friends, without mom’s goofy games, without fighting with siblings, without the old comfortable routine. In the newness of the firsts and in the shedding of the lasts, life reveals its wild and precious self. Ready or not.
Lisa Lewton 