How my daughter who is turning 5 this week takes me deep into my old memory drive

Go inward for the answers you've been searching for

My daughter is turning 5 this week.

It feels like everything happened at the brink of an eye. These past 5 years feel more like 5 months. I can’t help but wonder what might happen in the next 5 years.

She might not know it yet, but she is my constant source of inspiration and motivation to become a better person, husband, and father. This post is a little gift for her.

Dear friends,

Do you remember what you were like when you were 5 years old?

What did you love?

What brought sparkle in your eyes?

How would your family describe you?

Who was your best friend?

Do you recall any of that?

I don’t.

So, I started looking through some old albums under my bed.

the 5-year-old me, sitting closest to the camera

It was 1993.

There I was, with my classmates in kindergarten.

Holding this photo in my hand, I stared into the eyes of this 5-year-old me.

I closed my eyes. I went deep into my dusty memory drive.

What was I thinking?

How did I feel the world around me?

Why did I seem rather odd in this photo when other kids were enjoying themselves?

Was that my best smile?

Yet, there is nothing I could restore from my memory.

I wish there was a time machine. I wish I could go back and talk to him.

The next day, I asked my parents.

Their replies were mostly, frustrating. I don’t blame them. They were busy working back then. My younger sister and I spent quite a bit of those early years with my grandparents who have already passed away. Another dead end.

I was getting desperate to know the answers. I closed my eyes again. I took some long deep breaths, going deeper inside me. Amidst the darkness, there were flashes of memory. I saw a bicycle. I saw a sunset by the seashore. I saw my grandparents. I saw myself playing with other boys in the playground.

Are these pieces of memory real? Or are they illusions created by my brain out of despair?

I don’t know. But I was lucky.

I keep in touch with my kindergarten teacher after all these years. I picked up the phone and sent her a rather awkward message to ask if she still remembers anything about how I was like when I was 5.

Would someone remember anything about a boy from thirty years ago? Well, probably not.

But not for my teacher.

The good news is that I was not just another boy. I was in the class during her first year working as a teacher. She said she remembered every single kid by heart. And here was her answer:

You were quiet, observant, brave, and kind.

Kindergarten teachers do live in fairy tales, don’t they?

Where are my bad habits, attention deficit, and self-sabotage that I was looking for?

Part of me was hoping for a different story. Part of me wants someone to tell me that I wasn’t good enough right from the start. So I could feel better for my underachievement.

It took all the energy from every single cell in my body to find the balance in the world today. Things are a lot more confusing than they used to be. The noise from social media is so loud that I could hardly hear the messages from my soul. I closed my eyes to find who I was. I found nothing but darkness.

I forgot who I was. I was lost and drowned by expectations fabricated by the society.

What’s next after a bigger paycheck, a carefully crafted social media account, and another cup of specialty coffee?

Do I really need that dose of caffeine, or do I want to show off to strangers that I am a decent human being holding a coffee cup?

The addict couldn’t tell.

As my daughter is turning 5, I take this opportunity to look inward.

I looked into the eyes of that 5-year-old me again.

I didn’t recall anything specific.

But I was certain I wasn’t the kind of kid who would make funny faces or stick his leg out, just like who I am today.

I wasn’t the kind of kid who made headlines.

I wasn’t the kind of kid who cared much about what other people think.

These are the answers I was looking for.

I have long forgotten how to be brave and kind.

Deep inside, I am still that quiet little boy. All he truly wanted may simply be a hug from his mom and dad. Yeah, that’s enough.

Until next time.

- Franco