My Earliest Memory

            The earliest event that I can fully remember was most likely the “extended” my parents and I took to the U.S when I was three. The reason I used quotation marks around the word “extended” was that it lasted an entire year. No kidding. Although my “vacation” was too long to remember all of it, especially since it was 11/12 years ago, there are still some distinct memories that I still hold. I still remember the calm, sleepy university town on the boarder of Alabama and Georgia that we called home, where I could still remember when I accidentally ran into a door and split my head open (no, not as bad as it sounds). Because we were in a foreign land, we traveled a lot, and I could still feel that I only visited New York yesterday. Even though the real deal happened in the August of 2001, and as a matter of fact I did tour the World Trade Center. Yes, in hindsight, I was certainly a very fortunate child.

            During most of our time at “home”, I spent most of my days at a church school that I went to. As it was my first time coming into contact with English, I was nowhere near as talkative as I am now. So I mostly observed my surroundings and tried to learn as much as I could gather from the teachers. I could still remember that one fateful autumn might, while I was playing tag with a few other children. As I was chasing this one person through the gates to the sanctuary, I could still see in my mind the gate ominously closing as I was running straight forwards, my puerile reflexes unable to stop me. I could still feel the shock of the impact as blood started to gush out of my head. Thankfully, my parents were around, but that didn’t stop me from… well, not remembering anything else until my abrupt awakening on a hospital bed with 3 stitches on my forehead. If one looks close enough, they can still see the tiny imprint of history woven amongst my hair.

            Now that you’ve heard about the place we called home, and my escapades there, let’s zoom out a bit. We went all over the United States, sometimes to visit friends and colleagues of my parents but mostly just to see the sights before we inevitably go home. One of the most memorable trips I had was when we took a road trip all the way to the Eastern Seaboard of America. I could still remember seeing the most famous monuments of the US capital. I could still feel as if I was standing behind the front fence of the White House, peering curiously beyond the boundaries to see if anything unusual was happening. (Un)Fortunately, nothing quite did. What was amazing was our visit to New York City. Believe me when I say that the Big Apple was the grandest skyline I have ever seen. One can only appreciate it by standing at street level and staring upwards in amazement. Or staring down from what was the highest office building on the planet. Actually standing on the skyline was an entirely other sight to behold, as the bustling city down below seemed tiny, with people blending into the dull backdrop of urban life. Even such mundane activity was very exciting for me. Of course, being on top of the world does help to create a sense of wonder that only a child could experience. Such was how I felt to see the world.

            But inevitably, we had to return to China, I cannot remember the exact events, but I assume that sadness ensued. Because as children, we remember only the present, and at that time, the U.S was all that I knew. Although I did adapt to life back in China quickly, some things just stay with you forever. Having the English skills helped me greatly when I came to Canada, but the greatest gift was the memories. I still yearn to return today, to see again what I had twelve years ago.