I like to think back on first times.

There’s so many.

Each one an individual.

Significant in its own way.

However, no matter how unique,

each first begins with me feeling

the same exact way.

With each first comes that feeling.

Adrenaline fills my rushing veins.

It pulses through my curious heart,

enabling me to pursue a new,

unexpected adventure in life.

Each first begins with me feeling

the same exact way.

Adrenaline flowing,

I step into my shining new car,

lanyard strapped around my neck

embellished with an unused key

and a card with my face plastered on it.

Two trivial items that

hold all the power behind the privilege.

Sixteen, confident, and optimistic.

Alone, I pull away from my childhood home.

For the first time.

Adrenaline pumping,

the doorbell rings twice,

followed by a playful knock

upon the brick red door.

I screech down to anyone listening

“OPEN THE DOOR, IT’S HIM.”

A sentence so obscure.

Seventeen, date ready, and hearts full.

Together, we walk out the front door.

For the first time.

Adrenaline circulating,

tears roll down my face

as I watch my parents and siblings

stroll away from my temporary new home.

Opening each acceptance and email

was never as gut wrenching as

closing the door once they’d fled my view.

Eighteen and independent.

I turn to gaze out at the bustling campus.

For the first time.

Each first, always accompanied

by the same amazing feeling.