My brother is at that age. You know what I mean – that age where he’s too cool for emotion, too embarrassed to hug his sister, too unaffected to get excited over a christmas present. From the moment he entered middle school he copped this too-cool-for-school attitude; I guess it was his way of asserting to the rest of us that he’s not a kid anymore.
But last year, that broke down for a moment, when he road in an airplane for the first time. It was as the plane started rolling down the runway that my brother forgot to keep his cool. His eyes began to widen as he pointed at ground out the window; his voice rose with excitement, and he tugged on my sleeve to “Look, Kaitlyn! Look!” as the brown grass disappeared faster and faster out the small window pane.
The moment the sound of wheels on pavement faded away, my brother clenched my arm with one hand and his armrest with the other, and squealed as the plane made it’s way into the air.
“Look, Kaitlyn!” he continued to tell me, still pointing down at the ground, “how high up do you think we are? I think it must be miles and miles.” I couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiasm. After so long of seeing nothing but his too-cool facade, I was finally seeing the real Luke. It was something like magic.
I believe in first times – first time riding a plane, first time driving a car, first time seeing snow, traveling to another country – whatever it may be, there’s something raw and innocent about firsts. There’s a certain lack of expectation or assumption that manages to pull the latent child from adults and ignite the unadulterated excitement and passion of little kids. I believe in that innocence, in the magic of that moment when the sheer new-ness of something is enough to tear down the thickest defenses, if only for a second. It’s enough to remind us that we’re all human, all connected, all with the same basic desires and needs. It’s too easy to forget that sometimes – so I believe in the moments that remind us. If you’ve ever seen a child ride an airplane for the first time, there is something magical and inspiring in the way they can’t pull their eyes from the window, in their gasps of excitement and the way they point to every single object as it passes by, how their eyes are as large as eyes can be and their voices quick with excitement. It’s that innocence that can restore faith in humanity when everyone you meet seems jaded, broken, or cruel, a society of drones unwilling or unable to show emotion of any kind. It’s that excitement that reminds us what it’s like to really feel something. I believe in the magic of first times.