Have you ever wondered if you'll be able to remember today when you turn eighty?
It still bothers me that I've had and will have good and bad days that will weigh on me—transform me—and I wouldn't even remember anything about them in a couple of years. Sometimes I wish I didn't lose my diaries so at least there's something to read when I get a little bit older. On the other hand, I like that I can at least always retell random stories about my childhood to my husband so I won't forget them.
I read once that when you barely remember anything from your childhood, it's probably because of the trauma. I must have had a wonderful childhood then, because I remember so many things.
At least for now.
I'm actually worried I'd end up forgetting them in a few decades and just manage to tell 3 or 5 stories to my grandchildren when they ask.
Can you imagine that?
A whole life lived, and only 5 stories to tell at the end of it all.
So, while I may not be able to write an entire autobiography of my oh-so-ordinary life, I could write a series of blog posts like this and call them Core Memories. Perhaps when I grow old and there's nothing left for me to do, I can come back to this series and remember that I have lived a beautiful life after all.
Core Memories: Tomato Dance on my 3rd Birthday 🍅
January 12, 1998
It's my third birthday.
Daddy, who dislikes big parties, is still in South Korea so my mom takes the chance to throw me a big birthday party while he isn't around. (You know, with the guests, balloons, a big cake, and hotdogs and marshmallows on bamboo skewers.)
I'm wearing a new denim dress and black gladiator sandals. I remember this only because we have a photo back home to prove it. My black curls bounce on my shoulders, and I don't remember minding that it isn't straight like my other friends'.
On normal days, I only play with two friends: Ate Minmin, who I guess is only 3 years older than me, and that other boy who made fun of me when he saw I didn't wipe after I went in their bathroom to pee. Today, I see so many more kids. Some of them I kind of know, and some I do not. So I sit in the corner and look at them play with my toys.
In the middle of the living room I spot a little kid about my age playing with my new telephone toy. I don't remember being a selfish brat, but I go to the kid and pull my toy away because it's new.
My mom must've noticed because she comes over and tells me to share.
Reluctantly, I let go and the kid, unfazed, happily takes my toy again and I end up playing with my other toys, stealing glances at the kid and my telephone in case they break it.
***
I'm not exactly sure who the little boy is and why the adults are pairing me up with him, so I could only guess now that I must have had not found a partner for the tomato dance. Didn't I say I only have two other regular friends? Maybe I'm the odd one out. Maybe nobody picked me. But of course it's my birthday, so they look around for another kid I can tomato dance with. Eventually, they bring a boy inside the circle. He's probably four inches taller than me so he bends his neck a little when the music starts so our foreheads meet.
The adults place a tomato between us and they clap and cheer as all the kids "dance" to the music, moving and taking small side steps so the tomatoes don't fall to the ground.
I know I'm only three but I suddenly get shy and feel my cheeks grow hot when I look up and see that our faces are only three inches apart. Ten seconds into the song, my tummy feels funny and I drop the tomato intentionally so I could peel myself away from my partner.
The adults think it was an accident, while my partner frowns, probably just concerned about the prize.