Imagine this: You are woken up in the middle of the night by a sharp knock on your door. You open the door, and there stands an angel looking at you. It tells you that your life is about to come to an end and, in 24 hours, you must follow him to heaven.

    What would you say and what would you do then? Cry and complain about how unfair fate is? Beg for another 10 years or so? No! Well, at least, not for me. If that happens to me, the last thing I would do is hide away or spend my last day like a coward.

    When I woke up in the morning, I would not stay in bed for another few minutes as I usually do. Sitting up immediately, I would let myself have my favorite breakfast, for as long as I preferred. I wouldn’t be in a hurry because I would know this would be my last breakfast. I would rush to the window, pull up the curtains and embrace the golden sunlight, for one last time.

    Then, as I set off for classes, I would not just grab my schoolbag and dash off as I usually do. I know my dear mom will always see me off at the door. I would wrap my arms tightly around her and inhale the scent from her shoulder, for one last time.

    When I entered the classroom, I would not make a beeline toward my seat and toss down my bag as I usually do. I would walk around the place, where memories abound.

    When the class was over, I would not walk out with my head held high, as I usually do. Instead, I would say a few words to each one of my classmates, and to the teachers, saying “thank you” and “goodbye” to them.

    However, as I left school in the afternoon, when my classmates asked me to go home with them, I would not accept the invitation as I usually do, because I would want to make it a different day. I wouldn’t take the bus home, or any means of transportation. Instead, I would walk home, for one last time.

    And that evening when I finished my dinner, I wouldn’t just go into my room and slam the door as I usually do. I would know this would be the last time Mom made such a delicious meal for me. So after helping her wash the dishes, I would hug her and say the words I have never voluntarily said to her: “Mom, your cooking is superb. I love you.”

    That night, I wouldn’t mind what time I settled down to sleep, because I would know that once I fell asleep, I would never wake up and see familiar things again. I would never go to school and listen to the familiar words again. I would never...I would never be the old one I was. But anyway, why should that matter at all? Death is nothing to be afraid of, for it’s just the beginning of a new, perhaps better way of living. Like a phoenix resurrects after a bath in the fire, the moment my clock stops ticking in the world I know, the cries of a baby on the other side of the universe will be heard as clearly as ever.