There’s only one first time

The piece was written for and first published at T.B.C, as part of a series of first time descriptions.

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The world around us freezes every winter, the ground hardens and is inhospitable for months. Nature is harsh, the winds blow and rain, hail and snow swamp the ground.

The earth endures the pain and hardship of bleak, dim, frigid days. Eventually emerging, slowly but surely. Tiny specks of green shoots show their heads and take their time to bloom with drooping silky petals bringing hope of the next progressive glimmers.

Each year we all notice that first day of spring. The bright blue skies letting the sun’s heat through rather than the blanket of warmth getting lost from under the cosy clouds. The snowdrops shining green and white amidst last year’s fallen leaves. The merest hint that the barren winter is receding. That first day comes every year and brings hope for the spring and summer ahead.

Just like winter’s passing, when we go through something awful and it’s over, readjusting starts with the smallest things. We start doing the little bits of every day life again, no matter how hard that is or how painful. Eventually, we have to start again. Like the snowdrops pushing through the hard ground and crispy leaves. All sorts of challenges face us too as we recover from our painful experiences. But we nevertheless take those tiny steps.

I remember the first tiny steps I took when I emerged from the gloom of grief after boy3 was born.

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Read on at T.B.C with the original post.