When I was little, my mother gave a lot of warnings in green. Especially if there was something she did not want to do.
When I wanted to go swimming for the fifth day in a row and she did not want to take me: “You’re swimming too much. Your hair’s going to turn green from all the chlorine.”
Or if there was something she wanted to stop me from doing.
When she wanted to get me to stop eating white bread: “Did you know that stuff turns green in your stomach.”
And when I was climbing a fence or trying to get onto the roof or digging my way under the house: “You’re going to get a splinter in your leg and it’s going to turn green and the doctor will have to cut it off!”
Ironically, green was her favorite color.
Before she moved far away almost twenty years ago, she gave me a set of green sheets that I still use on my bed today.
She was wrapped in a green blanket the day I saw her die.
But shortly before she died, she told me, “Do the things you want to do. Live without regret.” She lived by example, did the things she wanted to do, died without regret.
So I opened up my computer, logged onto my blog and got ready to type another story.
I started with the title.