I remember the small things more than the big ones. Not the grand gestures, but the way the afternoon sun caught their hair during fifth period. The sound of their laugh from across the hallway before I even saw their face. The gravity that pulled me toward them in a crowded room without my permission.
It was clumsy. It was overwhelming. It was, quite frankly, a beautiful disaster. What they don’t tell you about mi primer amor is that it is rarely perfect. In fact, it is usually a mess. We didn’t know how to communicate. We confused intensity with intimacy. We thought that fighting meant we cared, and that jealousy was a form of passion. Mi Primer Amor
My first love taught me my own capacity. I didn’t know I could feel that much joy until them. I didn’t know I could feel that much sadness until losing them. They introduced me to the full range of my own humanity. I remember the small things more than the big ones
And eventually, for most of us, you learn how to say goodbye. Here is the secret about mi primer amor that no one prepares you for: it never really leaves. The gravity that pulled me toward them in