Where has my childhood gone?

This is going to be a slightly sentimental essay, but I don’t intend for this to be sad at all. To be honest, I had little idea of what to write about, and this felt natural to write but was a lot more personal.

I’ve recently discovered that my family has kept all of the family’s memories in a massive storage file on the network. This consists of media all the way back from 2000, before my sister and I were born. This file consists of everything–from my and my sister’s sporting events, birthdays, vacations, family visits, and the occasional glimpse into our daily life as a family. I’m grateful to my parents for organizing these files meticulously throughout the years, and I’m glad I have these moments of my childhood captured. To be frank, I don’t remember any of it at all.

These are my two dogs, and this is me with my grandma.

Sadly, they both died when I was 8 years old. I unfortunately don’t have many recollections of them, besides the photos in the media file. I don’t remember the sound of my dogs’ barks or the voice of my grandma. I have fragments of them in my memory–some good, some bad. My issue is that most of what I remember is when they died. It’s upsetting to me, and this fact troubles me in the present. What upsets me more is the fact that these fragments are slowly fading away, the periods between when I think of them gradually increasing. What was interesting to me though was the fact that I had felt a twist of anger going through the pictures of them through the files. I was initially excited to reignite some memories, but I felt more hollow as I paused on these photos, attempting to drink in the memories of the moment, to no avail. No matter how sad I felt and how much I was forcing myself to remember, I still couldn’t recall much more than the fragments of memories I originally had. I had hoped that going through my past would result in a cascade of recollections, but there was nothing for my mind to grasp. It almost made me regret revisiting my childhood.

In this photo, the guy on my right is my best bud, Cameron. He’s a year older than me, and this is him coming to my kindergarten graduation at Creme de la Creme without any proper clothing. I had completely forgotten about this dude until I rediscovered him in the photos we had together. Cameron was one of the most influential friends I’ve had in my childhood, teaching me all about video games, pokemon, beyblades, all the good stuff. This guy also got me hooked on exotic cars, too. I hung out with Cameron nonstop as a kid, watching movies or playing sports or Mario Kart on the Wii. I looked up to him for 5 solid years. And yet I don’t even remember the last time I saw him. I don’t even know why I stopped hanging out with him. Maybe he moved. I just don’t remember.

I’m different than my sister in this way. She was able to remember the time when I was born when she was 2 years old and we were living in St. Charles. She claims she remembers that house as well as our current home, which she’d lived in for 13 years. I have no clue what the house looks like. No fragments, nothing. Up until a couple of days ago, I thought I had only visited Hong Kong, my parent’s homeland, once. Apparently, I was the only one in the family who didn’t know we went twice in two years. I felt like this was a “my whole life is a lie” scenario. I remember only a handful of bits while my sister is able to recount the trips to HK in vivid detail. I’m jealous of this capability of hers and how it differs from mine, but at the same time, I’m not.

In contrast to my sister, I’m able to move on from these events without episodic regret. As we all grow older, sulking and contemplating the past in larger magnitudes are dangerous and hinder the progression of your present self. Some people can’t help but mention their past in accordance with their successes or failures, indicating they haven’t accepted reality and moved on to become a better version of themselves. On the other hand, some people ignore their past completely. For me, I will always look back on this family album until the end of my time. As I grow older, forging new memories and inevitably forgetting my past, I will be more than happy to look back on the things and people that have shaped me forever. I feel that my childhood hasn’t left and will never leave me as I always have a place where I can happily revel in nostalgia.