a.funnytimeofyear.com

Yesterday afternoon we took a brisk walk, braving through the cold air, sheltering our cold ears from the raw winds of nature. The gritty driveway shone drearily as we exited the house and the mud tracks squashed beneath our feet as we entered a natural world – something I’m so seldom willing to visit these days. I’ve always been unlucky in the sense that my location of upbringing meant that I had close to zero interaction with other kids (other than my older brother.) On a more positive note, the blessing of living opposite a field is that behind my house lie acres of wilderness, untouched by man. As we strolled past a sandy farm, sidling up the beaten path with my arm around his shoulder, I realised that this is my first love. Funny feeling, most definitely.

It’s a strange sensation to realise that what you are feeling, discovering, and attempting to comprehend are a completely new set of emotions. These are raw, untouched and mostly unearthed – just like those surrounding elements as we stole a single kiss in the afternoon air. As we stood at the lookout point, the highest spot for miles, I realised how afraid I am of defining what this is. So frightened by saying this; that it’s my first time. I’m so used to playing the grown-up, sewing up the frayed edges of my family’s misdemeanours that perhaps I’ve forgotten how to take a breath, relax, and learn how to be me. I’m afraid to admit that I’m young, naïve, and I haven’t yet learnt the art of giving myself to someone else. The intimacy of sharing your thoughts, your veiled secrets and most scarily the one thing you truly own; your body.

I stood for a moment by the side of the road, staring into a muggy brown puddle. Gazing into my sepia reflection showing the face of a boy as if it were an old photo. Pointing out places where I had spent my early teens hiding, we embraced in the cold winds, heading in the direction of home. The tree where I’d spent hours devouring a book, lone benches where many a piece of prose has been composed, and hill points where I’ve sat under starry skies, discovering my own constellations for the first time.

Except this time, I was discovering my first love.