Twenty-something writers posted a new writing prompt on Friday. Make a list of five things you’d want your children to know. If/when Husband and I have children, there are quite a few things I’d want to teach them … Aside from their ABCs and how to tie their shoes, I want to teach them specific lessons on life that I wish I would’ve known! (Okay, who am I kidding? I knew these things; I just didn’t want to listen.) So, basically, I’m going to pretend I’m about thirty-five or forty while I’m writing this.

“Five Things That I’d Want My Children to Know”

1. Relationships/Boys/Girls. Don’t take them too seriously when you’re young. There are always other fish in the sea. Sure, there will be that boy-girl that you are just so “in love” with, but things can change. People change. Have fun while it lasts … and continue to have fun if/when it doesn’t last.

2. Be responsible. Yeah, I know you want to go out on the weekends and have fun with your friends, and that’s fine. Just be responsible about it. Don’t make stupid decisions, and if you so happen to do something that I don’t necessarily want you doing, you can still call me. (This goes for my younger siblings, as well.)

3. Be smart in school. You don’t necessarily have to be a genius (though that’d be cool, too), but try to have fun learning. Do as well as you can while you’re in school. I promise, it doesn’t last forever. Have fun, but make sure you make the grades you want.

4. Friends are important. This might completely contradict what I last said, but school isn’t EVERYTHING. You should have a life outside of school. Keeping your grades maintained is important, but you need to have fun and spend time with friends. Go to the movies, go out on dates. Don’t stay cooped up in your room on Saturday night because you have a homework assignment. Don’t work your butt off at your job, either (if you have one). (Yeah, I was one of those kids that worked forty hours a week when I was a junior and senior in high school.)

5. Have fun. Obviously, this is my main lesson. I don’t want you looking back when you’re in your twenties, thinking, I wish I had more fun when I was a kid. When you’re in your twenties and you want to have fun? You have to pay for it. (Instead of letting Mommy and Daddy pay for it while you’re a kid, so live it up!)

What are five things you’d want to tell/teach your kid(s)?

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(click the banner to go to the writing prompt at Twenty-Something Writers)

If I could go back to any day, I would pick this day. Not to say goodbye one more time–no, that would be too hard. I would go back to say I was sorry for being so selfish. I would apologize for wanting to leave so badly. I would apologize for not spending every moment I could with her. I would also thank her for being my best friend.

I don’t remember what the weather felt like that day; it was in August, though, so it must have been warm. Granny was dying. She had been diagnosed with lung cancer just a few months before (in May, to be exact), and everything had gone so quickly. She was only in her early 50s; how could she be dying at such a young age? I watched her grow more sick every day. I watched her fear turn into calm. In the end, she was okay; she was ready to go. I wasn’t ready, though. I selfishly wanted her to hold on just a little longer; I wanted her to remain my best friend for a few more years, at least.

It was Thursday, August 5, 2004. (Was it really that long ago? It doesn’t feel like it was that long ago.) She was saying her goodbyes because she was prepared to go. She said that she had a dream about Jesus; he told her it would be okay, and she was just happy that she’d be going to see her family. I didn’t believe in God at the time. In that moment, though, I thought maybe.

She called each of us into her room, telling us that she loved us. When she called me in, it was hard to hold my tears back, but I felt like I needed to be strong for her. She told me to take care of her best friend (my Pawpaw, her husband since she was seventeen-years-old); I promised that I would. We knew she was dying. My aunt came to pick me up along with my younger brother and sister. Mom didn’t want them being there when it happened, and she wanted me to go with them to make sure they were okay. Granny asked where we were going, and we told her we were going to get ice cream. She said, “Don’t stay gone for long. Bring some back for me.” Though I knew we wouldn’t be coming back until it had happened, I kissed her cheek and whispered an “okay.”

Mom said Granny kept asking if it was Friday yet; she said she was going home on Friday. Everyone continued to tell her that it was only Thursday, still.

That night, I cried myself to sleep in the darkness. It was better when no one could see because, at least then, I seemed strong. I slept well despite the events, and I woke to the phone ringing around eleven the next morning. It was Mom. I knew it was all over. Granny had taken her last breath just minutes before. I can’t remember if I cried when my aunt confirmed what I already knew. I think I did, maybe. It’s all very foggy.

We got dressed and went back to Granny’s house. I remember being in some sort of daze; Granny was still there, laying in her bed, breathless and yellow. I took her hand, and I swear I saw her breathing, but I know it was just my imagination. It was odd. We spent countless hours watching her chest rise and fall, and now here it was … stopped. Lifeless. I kissed her goodbye for the last time, and they came to get her. (I’m not exactly sure who they were.) Mom made us go to another room with the younger kids so they wouldn’t have to watch them take her away to be cremated.

It was Friday.