What if you knew you only had 24 hours left to live? What would you do? How would you react to such sudden finality? How would you live the rest of your life?

I do not normally ponder these mind-bending questions while sitting at my breakfast-room table, sunlight dappling my Cheerios (Honey Nut, of course), but the previous evening I had attended the funeral of a classmate. She, like me, was far too young to die, having not yet turned 21. Fortunately, or unfortunately, she had months to prepare for her end, and new beginning, but what if you didn’t have months? What if you had 24 hours?

I have a plan in mind of what I would do if I knew that my time was limited. I’d go out and apologize to those I’ve hurt, because, regardless of the hour, everyone appreciates an apology. So many people that plan to do things at the 11th hour in life die at 10:30. There would be time to visit family and friends with whom I have lost touch, or simply love too much to ignore. Yes, I have a plan.

I would kiss someone. Full on. No need to read into it too much; I’m dying tomorrow anyhow. I am reminded of dear Rhett Butler saying, “That’s what’s wrong with you. You should be kissed, and often, by someone who knows how.” Life is too short to not be kissed often. Where does 24 hours go?

I’d go for a walk. With 24 hours left, I’d take some time to enjoy this earth that I would so shortly be leaving. Not just walk outside and say, “yes, yes, this is all quite lovely,” but to really breathe in the world. To take in the beauty of everything that surrounds me-that is how I would go for a walk. Even on campus, being choked by car exhaust and traffic noise, there is an opportunity to appreciate this crazy world we live in.

Food is of great importance to me, and in my last day on earth, I’d most likely have a great deal of food. Bring another steak and, on the side, a loaded baked potato with some of your best cr?me brulee for dessert. If you’re going to clog your arteries in your last hours, clog ’em right.

I would spend most of my last 24 hours with friends and family, hopefully laughing, maybe with a little crying, but mostly laughing. Laughter can cure any bad feeling-that’s my theory. Celebrate the life I’ve had, remember all of the fun and the funny times I’ve shared with friends and those I love. Laughter can while away those 24 hours in sweet bliss.

Life is short-we hear this phrase throughout our lives. Live life to its fullest, and live with no regrets. These phrases seem clich?d when we say them out loud, but they still smack of truth and wisdom. Yet, as I sit here, munching on cereal and staring out into the dead-looking trees of winter, I can’t help but think about how my plan for my last 24 hours on earth falls short of anything spectacular.

I will not save the world, and I will most likely not change the world in my last hours. What can one person do? Not much, it seems. Like a large ship, the world changes slowly, it cannot turn on a dime and it takes a lot of effort to effect a change in course.

But to effect a change in the world, what if more people started living as though tomorrow they might die? Could we slowly alter the course of this over-commercialized world we live in? Perhaps.

My Cheerios are almost gone, and I’m left with a thoroughly unsatisfied feeling. The cereal has filled me up, but I can’t shake the feeling that I may never enact my 24-hour plan. My classmate, who sings with her choir above, had months to live as though she might die tomorrow, and her strength and will to do so is a tribute to the power of human spirit and its ability to effect change, one human at a time. For, though she may not have changed the world, she changed my way of thinking about the finite lives we lead, and now I pass this information on to others. In such a way one person can-and has-actually effected a change in the world.

To Gabrielle Kay Matlock, Lutheran High School South Class of 2003, who changed the world, and now sings with different crowd.

Andrew Emmerich is a junior studying English and secondary education.