What do you remember about your first love? Use today’s writing prompt to relive it all, or rewrite it all … And check out my completed version of this writing prompt in today’s post. It’s called, Why I’m Remembering My First Kiss Underneath the Yew Tree.

Today’s Writing Prompt: My first love

For today’s writing prompt, write a journal entry from the perspective of someone who is in their 50s reminiscing about their first love.

Keep scrolling to see my completed version of this writing prompt.

Tip for Completing Today’s Writing Prompt:

When completing this writing prompt, determine how old this person was when they first fell in love. Who did they fall in love with? How long did it last? Was it a forbidden love? A foolish and destructive experience? An experience filled with perpetual bad timing?

Also, before you start completing this writing prompt, consider what is prompting this middle-aged person to reminisce about their first love, and what triggered their nostalgia to write this journal entry in the first place. An event? A place? A photo? Did they run into the person again recently?

You might also want to consider your experience with your own first love when completing this writing prompt. Or look at one of your favorite love stories or dramas for inspiration.

Why I’m Remembering My First Kiss Underneath the Yew Tree, by K.E. Creighton

They had the funeral yesterday. And it was a wretched one to bear. But not for the reasons that typically make funerals wretched.

No, this funeral was wretched because it was so sparse. The only people there were his two daughters and their children. And they were all quiet and didn’t say much. But you could tell they were sad. I saw tears in their eyes sporadically throughout the service.

But they seemed… peaceful. And deathly quiet for the most part. (I know, I know. That’s an insensitive and cheap pun to use right now, but it’s still true. And I guess death is just on my mind right now.) It’s probably because he had been dying for years– you know, why they didn’t seem as distraught. They probably would have been under other circumstances. He was barely fifty-five! But cancer is such a persistent bastard. Especially when it takes those who still have a lot more years left to live, so slowly.

I wish I would have known! I probably would have called sooner. Or stopped by to visit him. Although, he probably would have hated that. He didn’t even want anyone at his own funeral for crying out loud. He said he had already finished all his goodbyes a long time ago, according to his eldest daughter, Layla. Except for me. He never told me goodbye. Until yesterday. He had told his youngest daughter, Aleece, to personally invite me to his funeral. So, of course, I had to go. That’s why I came back home for the weekend.

I still can’t believe I saw him again yesterday. Well, not him per se, but his body.

I mean, is it still technically him, the real him, even if his body is still and not breathing? Even if he’s not talking? Even if he’s wearing dress shoes instead of running shoes?

God, his body was so still. I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen him that still before. He is… or was… always doing something. He was always moving, never still– playing a guitar or swimming or throwing a ball.

But then again, the last time I saw him was when we were in our twenties. A few days after the last time we saw each other, we had agreed it was best to go our separate ways for good. Our lives were just so different at that point and it hurt too much.

Oddly enough, our first kiss had been in the same cemetery where he’s resting now. I remember it like it was yesterday. I always will. We were 13. It was Halloween night and a small group of us neighborhood kids were trying to scare one another amongst the old graves and unevenly sized headstones. We’d all outgrown trick-or-treating and wanted to do something more daring and fun. That’s why we were there that night.

I remember. While the other kids in our group were teepeeing headstones and running around spraying one another with silly string and fake blood, he grabbed my hand and just kissed me underneath the yew tree. It was out of the blue so I was startled at first, but eventually, I closed my eyes tighter and started kissing him back. He tasted like Snickers and smelled like baby powder. And I wanted to be with him forever like that.

After that Halloween night, we stayed together through high school. But we eventually broke up a few months after we both left our little town for bigger towns, with even bigger dreams. He will still always be my first love though. We learned so much together and had so many perfect first moments. I wouldn’t trade those for anything. He was my perfect first… everything.

I’ll probably go see him again tomorrow before I head back home.

[All Rights Reserved by K.E. Creighton and Creighton’s Compositions LLC. The above work is a piece of fiction. All names and locations referred to are the product of the author’s imagination and are used entirely for fictional purposes. Any similarities to real-life persons or places are purely coincidental.]

Notes on Completing this Writing Prompt

While I was writing this fictional journal entry for today’s writing prompt, I wanted to be nostalgic, but mostly in a sweet and somewhat distant way. I did not want to convey too much longing. While true loves are true, they don’t always last, and often shouldn’t. While you can have fond memories of someone you loved in the past, that doesn’t mean you should still be with them today. Sometimes love stories have a set place in time and should always stay there, and that can make them all the sweeter when you remember them.

If you complete this writing prompt, be sure to share your draft with members of our writing community. Weโ€™d love to read it! Be sure to tag #DailyDraftsAndDialogues and @kecreighton on Medium, WordPress, or Facebook, so we can read what you write for this writing prompt. Get creative! Letโ€™s see how many different versions of this prompt can be written.

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