I want the world for my children.
I want them to escape bad things and not make choices that they regret.
I want them to be successful.
I want them to be adventurous (yet safe).
I want them to be honest.
I want them to be kind.
I want them to be educated.
I want them to take joy in the little things. And the big things.
I don’t want them to have regrets, like I do. I don’t want them to look back on their life and replay instances in their mind where they could have done something but didn’t. For whatever reason. One of my biggest regrets involves instances where human kindness/compassion/care could have made a difference, but it was withheld, which in turn made a big difference. But not a good one. I replay scenes in my mind where I was mean to someone………for a variety of reasons, none of them valid. I replay scenes when I observed bullying and teasing and not only didn’t I step in to stop it, but I didn’t try to make them feel better after wards, either. Let’s not even get started on the regrets I have of bad choices that I made that possibly taught me a lesson but also changed the course of my life.
I am reminded of a day in the 4th grade that changed my life forever. There was this boy in my class that transferred in mid year. He was from Mexico and didn’t speak a lick of English. Because of his inability to communicate at the same level as the rest of the class, I could tell he felt isolated. His inability to participate in lessons that were instructed in a language he was just beginning to learn must have been frustrating. At the very least. For some unknown reason, I didn’t like him, which doesn’t make any sense, but whatever. He was never mean to me, or did anything to deserve what I did/allowed to happen to him.
One day during art I walked passed his desk and I dragged my pencil across his paper. Why I did this, I’ll never know. He got mad and retaliated by doing the same thing I did to his paper on the back of my shirt with a magic marker. I deserved what he did to me. I knew this at the time, yet it made me mad and I told the teacher what he had done to me, omitting what I had done to him. He didn’t have the language skills to defend himself and he got sent to the Principal’s office. For a spanking. They did that in school back then. As he walked away I felt the most tremendous amount of guilt and sadness. I knew I shouldn’t have done what I’d done. I shouldn’t have written on his paper OR told on him know that he couldn’t defend himself. I could have been a nicer person. Yet I wasn’t. I should have rectified the situation by being honest and apologizing (which I didn’t). If I could go back and do it again, I wouldn’t have done what I did. But I did. I’ll never know if the events of the day changed his life, but how can something like that not?
I want my children to be kinder than I was.
I want them to make others happy by association.
I want them to be happy.
I want them to be better than I was. I want them to avoid the mistakes that I made. I don’t want them to learn the hard way that the way that leads to regret is NOT the way.
I can hope, right?
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