There's something satisfying about opening a new package of Post-it® Notes. The initial frustration of trying to get the plastic off, the pleasure in pealing it from the notes, the faint zing of writing on the first page. It's as if these notes are a wealth of opportunity unwrapping before me. Maybe they'll be reminders to take my prescriptions. Maybe they'll hold titles of movies or books that I'd like to get/read/watch someday. Maybe it'll be a quick jot of flight information for my next trip. Maybe they'll keep stray thoughts or scraps of dialogue for my newest attempt at a novel. Maybe they'll just sit in a drawer on my desk indefinitely, exercising the right not to comply.
Other "firsts" that I enjoy:
The first dig into a new jar of peanut butter. I'm always careful how I puncture the foil covering on the jar that's underneath the lid because I want to be sure not to disturb the top layer of peanut butter to better preserve that initial rush as I scoop out the gooey bits and smear it on my toast. Yum.
The first words out of a new pen. I love soft pens; pens that feel good in your hand and write in a soft and flowing manner. Pens that make writing a craft, a joy, and not just rote. Once I find a pen I like I use it till it dies, but those first few words with a new one are awesome.
The first glimpse of snow. I almost hate shoveling the stuff. Almost. I've always been fascinated by the clear, clean blanket of snow after a good storm has passed. There's something so still about it, hushed even, like it's just waiting for the rest of the world to catch up. I used to stand outside at Gordon College when it was snowing and just listen to the snowflakes fall and the trees waver in the wind. I like making snow angels in the virgin drifts, always striving to stand up out of my angel without adding footprints, but I've yet to be able to do it. During one snow-heavy winter, I would walk to the train station in Beverly, MA to catch a train to Salem where I was working and then walk from one end of Salem to the other to get to the office, only to repeat the whole thing in reverse to get home because the snow was too bad to drive in. But I could sit, waiting for the train, and hear the mute winter settle in around me.
The first sign of dawn. I'm as far from a morning person as you can get, but I so love watching dawn creep up on the world. I was reminded of it on our Daylight Savings Sunday when I was dressing for church in the dark at the crack of oh my God it's early. But then I drove up the NJ Turnpike and watched the sun inching over the edge of New York City and could feel the air change as the world woke up. Fabulous. I once watched dawn emerge over the Grand Canyon, easing the stars and darkness out to make way for the sun. There's just nothing like it.
Enjoy all your firsts today.