Today my coworker’s sister had a baby. I have not met the baby. I have not even met the sister. But my point is, as the family waited for the baby to arrive today, I was struck by the not-at-all-new idea that this baby, in the hours right before she was born, had her whole life ahead (which then caused me to cry at my desk for a few minutes). In the hours right before a baby is born, it is not yet afraid of anything. It has experienced no disappointments, or joys. Everything is ahead. It has so much to look forward to: There will be a moment when she first sees color, when she first feels the sun on her face, when she first experiences the sensation of walking, when she first tastes lemonade. Is that not actually the most incredible thing?

Almost every human being experiences these things, but almost always before he or she is really conscious of them, before he or she really appreciates them. I don’t remember the first time I felt the sun on my face, or the first step I ever took, or the first time I tasted lemonade. I was probably in a developmental rush, or unable to fully comprehend the significance of those experiences. But thinking about this new tiny person and how, starting today, she will experience everything for the first time, I cannot help but think of how exciting it is, how fantastic that is. I feel excited for her, whom I have never met, to experience these things that I have already experienced. Surely she will have disappointments and frustrations sometime, but hopefully, for a long while, only discoveries and happiness and triumphs—enough good stuff to fortify her against the other stuff she’ll come up against later.

It seems unavoidable that life gets more complicated as the years go on. But I think the happiest adults may be the ones for whom the wisdom of maturity has deepened the appreciation of life’s firsts.