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)?

(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.

This was a fun, creative writing prompt from Twenty-Something Writers.

(image from Single-Coil)

You are a single moth, fluttering into the light. Your eyes are blinded–at first–then you see clearly. Your previous life; your hopes and dreams–they’re all here in this beautiful collection of music. Close your eyes and imagine what has passed. The realizations of it all will quickly flow back. Hindsight is always twenty-twenty, afterall.

Be sure to check out Twenty-Something Writers and add us to twitter @20sw (because I tweet for them!) for updates.

This week, my blog crush is a new blog: Twenty-Something Writers. Not only is it a blog I contribute to, but it has discussion topics and writing prompts that you can do as well. It’s updated daily during the week, and it is quickly becoming a great community for 20-something writers (even if you aren’t quite in the 20-something age bracket). I love it so much that I’m running the twitter for the blog @20sw.

So, if you haven’t already, join in on the discussion; become a contributor; or just read it!

There is a new writing prompt up at Twenty-Something Writers.

We all have something we want to say to someone. Maybe it’s someone in your life now. Or, maybe it is something you wish you said to someone who is no longer in your life. It could even be Mr./Ms. Random Person that you saw in the local coffee shop today. What do you want to say that you were never able to?You can leave the person(s) identity anonymous, if you’d like. Feel free to feature more than one person. Do it in letter form or any form you prefer. Show us that creativity!

—
To Any Girl That Liked Husband in the Past,

I won.

Sincerely,
The Wife

—

Dear Granny & Pawpaw,

You’re no longer with us, and there isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t want to talk to you. I miss you both. Know that you two are and always have been my inspiration. You taught me to love and laugh, even through the hard times. Thanks for that.

Love Always,
Your Megan

—

Dear iPhone/Apple:

I’m completely disappointed that you’re on the AT&T network. I live in a small town where AT&T coverage isn’t available. Plus, AT&T sucks. Verizon is where it’s at. 

From,
Someone who would buy an iPhone if it were on Verizon’s network

—

Creepy Guy(s) in My Office:

Stop crunching your ice. Stop burping–at least say ‘excuse me’. Stop staring at Tiffany & I. Stop breathing so heavily while you stare. Stop complaining when you have to actually do something. Stop being creepy.

-One of the girls you stare at

There is a writing prompt up at Twenty-Something Writers that I decided to do. Not only could I win a $25 gift card to Barnes & Noble bookstore, but I get to write a letter to my younger self. I always find these fun & entertaining. For the prompt, I’ve decided to go back ten years and write a letter to my ten-year-old self.

Dear Self:

You are now ten-years-old; the double digits, I know you’re proud. I have a lot to tell you, so let me just jump right in.

For starters, you may hate those freckles now, but you’ll grow into them. Just know that if you put lemon juice on your face and stand in the sun, they will not disappear. I promise. Nothing is going to get rid of them, but they will fade with age. By that point, though, you’ll love them and so will everyone else. You won’t even notice them when you look in the mirror; they will be a part of you. And so will your cute little nose that you think is so huge.

You’re not going to get much taller; get used to this now. You’ll stop growing in the seventh grade at 5’1″, but people will love you for your height. Also, you are NOT fat. Stop listening to your cousins when they say you are.

A lot of things are going to happen in your life. For starters, you’re going to move out-of-state. At first, you may hate it, but I promise, it will become your home. You will want to live there and nowhere else. You will make some of the best friends, and your granny will be right: you will meet your husband there–though it won’t be the person you think it is, at first.

A few years after moving out-of-state, something major will happen in your life. It will probably be one of the hardest things you have to go through, but I promise, you WILL get through it. You won’t be completely alone; you will find your true self; you will grow. And one day? You’ll look back at it with memories of fondness, rather than the sadness you will be overcome with throughout it all.

I know your little sister is annoying now, but she’ll be your best friend someday. And your little brother will become just as annoying, but by the time you move out, he will be a best friend as well. You will love them as if they were your own children, though I know that’s hard to believe now.

You will fall in “love.” You will have a broken heart a time or two. Don’t let it bring you down. I promise, you’ll be happy in the end. You know that curly-haired boy you’re always imagining that couldn’t possibly exist? Well, he does exist, and he will be yours. Someday. Be patient. I know, I know. Patient, what?! I mean it, though.

I know you probably want me to tell you what to do to change everything so you won’t have to go through all of the sadness, BUT I won’t. You will like who you are when you are me, and changing anything will change everything. You will have no regrets, though. You’ll be happy. Everything will end up okay. Remember that.

Love,
Your Twenty-Year-Old Self

Today is a big day in the writing community–the twenty-something writers’ blog has been launched! The first writing prompt given to the contributers is tell us about your writing history, so I’m going to give it a go.

Honestly, I didn’t like English/language arts until I was in high school. Before that, I enjoyed writing, but I didn’t care much about grammar and how to write. Once I entered high school, I became aware of grammar and how much I adored it. My freshman English teacher taught us that “a lot” is, in fact, two words rather than the one word we had been using. I felt, before that, that I hadn’t been learning about the English language–as if my teachers didn’t care about giving the correct answer after circling a word that was incorrect with their infamous red pen. They were just there to tell me what was wrong, not what was correct.

I, of course, began to write poetry–mostly poetry that rhymed; then I actually learned more about poetry, that it didn’t have to rhyme, that there was a correct way to write it. My sophomore year of high school, I moved to Florida to be with my granny while she had lung cancer. I wrote most of my poetry the summer before that–all about how angry I was at god or whatever for making her sick, for taking her away from me that August, for not being on my side. Writing became my best friend, something I could turn to when I couldn’t stop the tears from sliding down my face. From that point on, I used writing as a venting mechanism–and I still do, which is probably why I think I write my best when I’m upset or angry.

When I moved back to Tennessee, after seven months of being away, most of my writing halted. I didn’t really know how to write happily, and I felt that anything I wrote while I was happy wasn’t good enough. I still wrote for school, however; and somehow, even if I waited until the night before it was due to write a five-page paper, I would make an A, and it just came so easily to me. All through high school, I took honors English just for the simple fact that it involved more writing. Even when I hated what I was writing about, I still enjoyed the entire process. When I entered my first semester of college, I made a 100% on every paper that I turned in…

I wanted to be a journalist, of course. Most people that have a love for the English language want to have a career of sorts that leans toward it. Journalism and/or English were my two career choices. However, I realized money is a huge factor in deciding a career no matter how much we don’t want to believe it. Therefore, I will not be going into either field–though I suppose I still have time to change my mind–but I will always enjoy writing. Still, I think I am not good enough. Sometimes I try too hard. Sometimes I don’t try hard enough. My love for writing, though, is infinite.

P.S. Today is my brother’s thirteenth birthday. Aww, he’s a teenager!