The Lasting Lasts

We revel in our firsts – footsteps, words, playschool, job, date, child and more. The firsts are a precursor to all that lies ahead and begins on a celebratory high note. It becomes our time log to keep track of our highs and sometimes, our lows. The end of every first feels like the beginning of so much more.

But what about the last? When life hits us with the idea of buying our last car, building our final home, possibly the last sojourn as our body gives up the strength to keep going and one is reminded of their finiteness.

A mid-life crisis is often a reminder of the transition from the bucket of firsts to the lasts. Our mortality sends a resounding message to question core beliefs which have pulled us thus far. The zooming in on new moments transitions into zooming out to see oneself as a speck in the universe and nothing more. Thus, begins the path to seek more relevance and acceptance but on one’s own terms. From being moulded by our experiences, we move towards defining our narrative with our pot full of wisdom.

The missed opportunities in hindsight and the ever-expanding life experiences leave little room or energy to start afresh. It is in this transition that one draws up an account of what really did/ continues to count. The winding down process brings with it a sense of ease, with lowered expectations from oneself and others and more acceptance of the world that you’ll anyway leave behind.

The novelty of firsts is exciting but the comfort of the known is one’s solace as we age. There’s a certain joy in the predictability of things, even in that of the lasts, which are inevitable. Perhaps, the lasts might be more satiating as they don’t leave us expecting anything more and give us the time and pace to take in all that we have without rushing to the next.