Challenge 3: A Day in My Life

38. If you could go back and change one day in your life, what would you change and why? (Santa Clara University)

I am eleven years old. I wake up to the ringing of my alarm clock and I look out the window to see the sun slowly creeping into the sky. It is an exciting day for me because it is the first time I am going out with my friends, without my parents. I race for the bathroom as I see my little sister dragging herself out of bed. I take a short shower, change into a pair of shorts and a top, and head down to the kitchen. My helper hands me a warm glass of milk and I drain it down in an instant; excitement gets the best of me.

My mother, eyes filled with amusement, enters the kitchen, chuckling to herself. A little embarrassed, I tell her how delighted I am to watch a movie with my friends. Of course, she then goes on to remind me to take her cell phone and be on my best behavior while I am out. I nod politely, completely unaware of the event that was shortly going to follow.

It is after breakfast, half an hour before my dai will drop me off to my friend’s house. I stand in front of the mirror, the excitement of a fifth grader gleaming on my face, making sure my hair looks okay. Then, I fantasize about the things we will do: watch a movie and eat at a restaurant, things that feel adult-like. Then it strikes me: what about money? My friend told me that her mom would give her enough for the three of us, but I still feel like I need to pay for my part. I had already asked my mother, but she denied it and said that we would not need more than what was provided. What I did next is something I am not proud of, even today.

I sneak into my parents’ bedroom. There is a small drawer next to the bed where my mom keeps all her change. I carefully open the drawer, stick my hand inside, grab a handful of notes, shut the drawer, and dash out of the room, praying that nobody saw me. Then, it is time to leave. As I wave goodbye to my mother, I feel the guilt creep up inside me, pinching at my stomach. I feel terrible, and sick.

Of course, when I came back, she had discovered that some of the money was missing and knew it was me. She asked me straightforwardly if I had taken the money, but with shame, I said no. I avoided her eyes. She ignored my answer, sighed, and called my sister. She sat both of us down and told us that we should never lie to her, but always be truthful. She said that she trusted us and that she didn’t want that to change.

That was the first time I ever lied to my mother. Now, as a teenager, I still carry that guilt with me; when I think about what I did that summer, I feel ashamed. I feel pity for the eleven-year-old me who could not own up to her wrongdoing. And this is why I want to go back to that day and look my mother into her eyes and admit to my mistake, even though she already knew. I would tell her that I was utterly sorry, and that I would never make this mistake again. However, that incident made me want to be a better person. It made me want to be a daughter whom my mother could trust. So maybe, it is better left alone because I really did learn an everlasting lesson.