la première fois

la première fois

What is life but the sum of one's experiences of joys and sorrows, pleasure and pain, anger, suffering, feeling love and hatred, pride and humiliation? One learns from each experience, accepts and grows.
And there is a first time for everything:
The first time you fall in love when no sacrifice seems too large to put a smile on the face of the loved one; when the whole purpose of living seemed designed to make the loved one happy.
The first time you lost a loved one when nothing else in your life seems worth living for; when you feel lost and do not know how you could go on living in a world without the other.
The first time you crumbled to tiny pieces, eaten by the monster of failure and lost all courage to face the world again.

These first times which seem like the greatest joys and sorrows that happened on this planet in the history of mankind. These first times when the emotion belonging to the moment consumes your entire being until you become the emotion itself lost in its intensity. And then reason takes over, reality sobers you down and acceptance sets in as you gather yourself up and start living your ordinary mundane real life again.

There would be other times when you face the same yet again but then they do not matter – you have seen the worst of it and you can do it again.

One such special moment is for every mother to hold her child for the first time in life.
A tiny, helpless being beating with life placed on your arms. First you admire the miracle of creation, nature’s perfect design and smile. You feel proud for having shaped it and held it within you. You are at the height of joy.
Then the tiny palm closes around your finger and you panic at the enormity of the responsibility. It is not a toy to play with but a life to take care of. It is yours to protect, to nourish and help flower.
The world seems too full of threats for your beautiful child. How could you close your eyes and sleep while your child needs to be protected? Would you know what it wants when he cries out wordlessly? Would you be able to let him grow up untouched by your own imperfections?
Would you be able to shelter him from hatred and jealousy and anger and violence that the world is so full of?
And then the tears begin to flow.
You cry for your own imperfections and the imperfections of the world in which this perfect child, your own baby, must grow.

The first time – a moment of great joy and sadness, hope and despair, pride and panic. The first time when you feel like God and the feeblest creature all at once.


P.s: I wrote this for a French assignment. Posting it here to share.