Reflections on a Forgotten Past
My surprise at stumbling upon it was almost overwhelming... A part of me that had been deeply buried and rarely shared.
It was the homepage of my childhood private school, with its ornate architecture and sprawling green campus, framed by flowering trees. It’s a silent witness to my childhood. Kids from wealthy families went there. I was one of them.
We were taught to speak with poise, extend grace, and carry ourselves with dignity. But when my father’s business collapsed, I left that world behind. I locked those memories away, pretending they never existed. I had to become tougher, yet goofier — survival demanded it as a young girl.
As I read a message from the school principal, the lessons I’d forgotten came rushing back. He wrote, “You often hear the phrase, ‘You can be who you are,’ here at school. It’s not about self-satisfaction, but about realizing you are unique, with power others don’t have.”
In Japan, where fitting in is highly valued, this message was — and still is — rare.
Even though young me tried to forget that part of my life, they ingrained self-acceptance and strength in me.
My late parents put me there where I could be taught and cared for. It gave me wings to travel the world and eventually become a Japanese American, forging a life that balanced both my Japanese roots and my international experiences.
Mom, Dad. It’s unfortunate you left the planet in such a hurry. I hope I’m worthy of your effort, carrying those lessons with me. I miss you. I love you. Thank you.