Making memories of us, from a mom to her daughter, translated…
I’d flipped open the pages of the diary exchange that my daughter and I wrote to each other, I was, filled with this bliss, how lucky am I, to take advantage of my child’s precious childhood years, and managed to, capture her caring and innocent words for me.
Actually, my daughter is very observant, as we’d gotten into writing, she’d learned, to clearly state to me, “Don’t write about ‘oh, I’m such a poor mom’ anymore, I can guess correct what you’re going to put down, every single time, do focus!”, it’s not that I’m not putting enough mind into it, but, comparing to the world that she sees, so full of life and full of colors, my world, I suppose, paled, by comparison.
not my photograph…
“I will lie next to you until you graduate from middle school, that way, someone can tell you bedtime stories every single day.”, that, was her thoughtfulness to kick away her sleep, and staying awake, to tell me the stories before bedtime, without knowing, that this, was my way, of training her to be more verbally expressive.
“I’d put silver nail polish on, but older sister said that it’s the color for old ladies.” That, was the discussion of beauty she has with her older sister. “I have a friend, he’s an old people, because he’s very elderly, but every time he’d come back from his trips abroad, he’d always, bring me something special, he is truly, a great friend”. This, is a friendship she’d cherished very much over. “Don’t sleep on the couch, you want to sleep, go to bed, it’s not like you don’t have a bed, if you keep on falling asleep on the couch, I won’t ever sleep with you again.”, that, was her serious-toned care and concerns toward me.
“Your feet are white and soft, like the mushrooms, so very delicate and cute! After you’d worn your shoes, your feet stunk, became like stinky tofu!”, when I’d written this, back then she was in elementary school, she drew the mushrooms and the tiny footprints, and wrote in barely legible writing, “It’s so disgusting that you’d written this, I won’t EVER be able to eat the mushrooms again!”, this sort of an interaction between mother and daughter, is something that I don’t ever see again, since she’d grown up, but, as I’d, picked up the volumes of diaries we’d exchanged, and, that little girl with the two pigtails seemed to, appear, right in front of me again, used her heart, to carefully, think out what she wanted to write to mom.
not my photograph…
And now, as my daughter reread these exchange diaries, she’d only laughed at how naïve she once was, but she’d not realized, that this, will be a memory that I will forever cherish until I die.
So, this, is something you’d started, as a way of sharing, with your own young, and, as she got older, of course, the sweetness of her childish words would be all taken away, because she’s maturing day by day, and now, all you will have, are the memories of the words the two of you exchanged when she was still quite young.
Life, the Obstacle Course 