One of the memories of when I was in probably fourth grade makes me really think about the meaning of life.  No, I was not almost killed in a car crash, nor did I face the pain of cancer.  But I totally forgot about the what the beats of our hearts are really about.
  I had just read a historical fiction book about the Titanic.  Later in the book, the main character's mother and uncle had ironically gone down to visit a friend in third class, and then the Titanic is hit an iceberg and history was made.  Sadly, the main character, who was about twelve, and his little sister became orphans.
  I remember going to a tumbling class the same day that I had finished the book.  I felt so much like crying because of the sadness of the book.  I even wondered how everyone else could possibly be so happy when tragic events like this happened.
  Mature as I was at that age, I was still so naive.  How could life be worth living if we spent it mourning the past?  We need to put a smile on our face and be grateful for everything that we have!