We tend to make a pretty big deal out of first times—steps, words, kisses, loves. We fill our phones with pictures, celebrate with toasts, and tell stories about them for years. What about the last times? Most of them slip by unnoticed, like a Gen Xer in a checkout line. No warning. No ceremony. Shit just happens like another ordinary day. Then, years later, on another ordinary day, it punches your sternum like a fist. It was the last time…

Being picked up by your mother.

Believing Santa Claus was real.

Falling asleep in the car and waking up in your own bed.

Calling your best friend’s house and asking their mom if they could come out and play.

Hearing the word pornography and having no idea what it meant.

Watching Saturday morning cartoons in your Transformers pajamas.

Thinking your parents knew everything.

Walking to Hess & Hess for candy cigarettes.

Running through the sprinkler in your Underoos.

Being excited about the last day of school.

Living in a world where no one you loved had died.

Being excited about the first day of school.

Having a summer that felt like it’d last forever.

Knowing school and shooting as separate, unrelated words.

Digging to the bottom of the Honey Combs box for the toy.

Being kissed goodnight by your father.

Dancing without caring what anyone else thought.

Thinking that your father would never hurt you.

Having all your grandparents alive.

Believing adults would take care of everything.

Going to bed without worrying about tomorrow.

Being carried upstairs.

Hearing your mother’s voice call you in for dinner.

Not knowing what terrorism was.

Thinking 30 was old.

Playing outside until the streetlights came on.

Putting Star Wars trading cards in your BMX bike’s spokes.

Having someone else make your doctor’s appointments.

Knowing you’d always have time to get to it.