Daily writing prompt
What’s something you’d love to see in the future, but know you probably won’t live to witness?
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If I had to answer honestly, I would probably say my great-grandchildren.

Unlike my grandmother and the women before her, I had children later in life. So at 60 years old, I currently have no grandchildren — only grand fur babies for now. My twins are in their thirties, and my daughter is in her late twenties, and despite the occasional joking, I’m not rushing any of them into parenthood.

In fact, our running joke has always been that I needed to reach my sixties first so I could truly enjoy being a grandmother instead of being exhausted chasing toddlers around earlier in life.

But when I think far into the future, I realize there’s a good chance I may never meet my great-grandchildren. And strangely enough, that thought doesn’t make me sad as much as it makes me reflective.

Because what I really hope for is legacy.

I hope that somewhere down the line there will be children sitting around listening to stories about the women who came before them. I hope my children pass down family heirlooms, old photographs, recipes, traditions, and memories. I hope they continue telling our family history so future generations know where they came from.

And maybe one day, someone in my bloodline will carry my unusual name — Valrelyn — the name people often struggle to pronounce until I smile and say, “It rhymes with Marilyn.”

Names carry history.
Stories carry legacy.
And love carries people long after they are gone.

I may never live to see my great-grandchildren laugh, grow, marry, or build lives of their own, but I hope they somehow know me anyway. Not just through pictures or objects left behind, but through the stories my children tell about who I was.

The meals I cooked.
The tables I set.
The traditions I loved.
The lessons I tried to teach.
The way I loved my family.

Because maybe that is how we continue living long after we leave this earth — through the memories, values, and love we plant into the generations after us.

And if someday a little girl with my name asks, “Who was Valrelyn?”
I hope someone smiles before answering.