First Love

Our parents are our first loves. They shape and mold our earliest memories of what it means to feel safe, cared for, and nurtured. I remember thinking my parents were invincible, my heroes. As I grew older, I unwillingly became aware of their flaws and weaknesses. They became human.

As an adult, relationships with parents can be complicated. There is love, nostalgia, loyalty and duty. Yet mixed in are subtle layers of hurt, disappointment anger and guilt. There is the added ever present awareness of their mortality that weighs on the back of the mind. A constant and nagging fear that the time remaining with them is finite and diminishing. 

Ultimately, my parents gave me my first glimpse of what it means to love unconditionally. To give without expecting. To sacrifice for someone else’s benefit. 

I grew up knowing I was loved. I hope my own kids will one day feel the same way.