I finished reading Americanah by Chimimanda Ngozi Adichie the other morning on my commute. I don’t want to give away any part of the book (that I could barely put down!) I will say that the main character’s first love remains unforgotten in her mind. This may have contributed to my feelings of longing and restlessness with those feelings for my First Love.
The book made me wonder if all of us who experienced a wonderful first relationship always have some sort of yearning for that person that lingers through our lives. I remember my mom talking about her boyfriend from college, not the one she married, and how much she loved him. I don’t remember specifics, other than his Japanese last name.
Why do we hold on to these memories, long for them, for years? Why do I feel bad for every time I mistreated my First Love? I don’t think it happened very many times, but I wish it hadn’t happened at all. He didn’t deserve anything but the kindness he showed me. Have I mentioned that I was really young and did not realize what a stuck up you-know-what I was? I had so much to learn. Still do. I wish I had known that the world can always use more kindness. Maybe I did, and I had temporary lapses with my still forming brain.
Letting go, letting go now, letting it all go now.
After we broke up, I know I slipped into a destructive mindset where I didn’t believe that I deserved anyone as good as First Love. I’m on the path to a full recovery from that.