On the highest level of the wooden book in the living room were collections and collections of albums, those sacred books of memory that I tilted my head to look up. Memories sealed in the snapshots; a whip of time frozen and preserved. I especially love to flip over the thick red leathered album and linger on the bright smiles of the girl in the frame. The girl is me—so familiar yet separated from my current self. While flipping through the photos, I indulged myself in the happy pure memories of my childhood: the yesterdays that would never return, the adventure of the curious girl observing the world. Just before I departed from home to America in the summer of 2021, a departure that I knew deep down would last longer than any I had experienced, I pulled down the red album and reopened it. No matter how many times I flipped over the pages, I would always encounter some new stories and surprises. This time, my sight landed on one that I could not take my eyes away from: 

Besides the emerald lake of Guizhou, along with the grey and white brick temples are my grandma and the five-year-old me. My grandma with her brown eyes and short hair, smiling at the camera with an air of confidence, and I, the little mild puppy, meekly sticking close to her. Grandma’s arms are around me like a protective cradle, and I, safe and sound, cling to her warm and strong body. The second I looked at the photo, time melted into jello, and together with the picturesque lake, the serenity and peacefulness filled the air with the miracle of life. Perhaps my furry hair has grown long and straight, my height has grown taller, but one thing that does not change is the gentleness and purity of my brown eyes and grandma’s strong protective arm around me. This moment of 2009 captures exactly my relationship with my grandma: she is my protector, my sun of the universe, the only shelter I could rely on and run to when I am hurt and bruised. 

***

 Grandma in my eyes is like a fatherly figure: holding up the whole firmament of family and keeping the order of the universe. She has compensated my childhood long for father’s love and filled in the empty spot in my young aching heart. Father was away for most of the time, and when he was home, his strict demands and intimidating temper convinced my young mind that he never loved me. But I was not a girl who would run to him and ask for love. I kept my distance with childish bitterness, unyielding as a rock. However, a longing came when I saw strong fathers holding their daughters on shoulders in zoos; when I read about the metaphor that a father’s love is like a mountain; when I witnessed Mufasa protecting Simba from hyenas, or lying on the grass and promising they would be friends forever. All those stereotypical descriptions created a secret craving for father’s love, and I admit that sometimes, on the darkest nights, I prayed for a more loving Father. My prayers were answered when I moved close to my grandma beside me, her strong hands holding mine reassuringly. I am blessed with the best grandma in the world and that is enough for me. 

***

As I grew older, I began to discover the similarity of households in that many fathers need to work so much to make a livelihood for their family, sacrificing the time to accompany their children. Unlike the West, Chinese fathers rarely spend time engaging in play activities with their children. Andrew Narrie, an American who worked as an English teacher in a Chinese province observed that a father’s role in China is more about making money instead of parenting the children. The absence of fatherhood does not occur only in China. U.S. former president W. B. Bush suggested in his speech that “over the past four decades, fatherlessness has emerged as one of our greatest social problems.” According to the U.S. Census Bureau statistics in 2020, there are 18.3 million children growing up fatherless in America. “Father factor” has become a phenomenon both in China and the U.S. 

That lack of my father’s presence in my childhood memory is unforgettable, like a bumper sticker that stuck unapologetically to the wall of my heart. I find that the familial bonds established in childhood are so crucial for a child’s development and those are the ties that will accompany her for life. 

When I was five I encountered Father on the stairs and I looked up. Just by looking at him fear overflowed my body and I knew that crying was not allowed in his presence. I began to wonder where the instinctual fear came from. I did not have further specific memories of how he treated me when I was younger, but that fear, so immediately, made me curious about the effect of early memories. 

Many people assume that since children won’t remember anything from their early childhood as they grow up, it does not matter whether they are taken on trips, for example, because they would forget the places they visited. But that is not the case. Even though the child might not remember a specific memory, what she would remember is the fulfilled feeling she had around her family. According to Nora Newcombe, a Ph.D. and a psychology professor at Temple University and co-director of the Infant & Children Laboratory, young children under age 7 undergo implicit memory, a different kind of memory than the explicit memory of adults. Implicit memory is more associated with unconscious and emotional recollection, which could last longer than explicit memory, which is memorizing specific events. Newcombe pointed out that even though children may not remember the specific experience, the memories building up in the early years could form the world view of children and last into their adulthood. 

 That void, that empty spot in my childhood will always be with me and defines my character. 

***

When the time comes, the little girl will leave the protective arm behind and travel to the furthest side of the globe, to seek her dreams and ambitions for the future. When I was fifteen-year-old, I made a decision to come to the United States to pursue a liberal arts education. I was not alone. According to the Wall Street Journal’s data in 2015, there were around thirty thousand Chinese students in U.S. high schools. No longer fulfilled by the “automatic” study mode back there, I had a strong desire to explore the humanities and I knew that America was the place to realize my dream. And with the glowing hopes of the liberal education I craved for, I had to make a sacrifice to separate from my family. 

The day I got my high school acceptance letter, Father called me into the living room. He was sitting on the sofa and scrutinizing me as I stood before him. He began his long speech about how my departure would last at least ten years and laid out all the difficulties I would encounter. Not until he said, “What about your grandma? Have you ever thought about how she feels?” 

His questions triggered all the emotions I tried to hide for a long time, which surged like a hurricane inside my body. How selfish I am to just leave my family behind. Then I knew I could not hold my tears even in front of Father. Perhaps he thought this was enough of a trial for me and asked, “So, tell me your decision.” Grandma stood at the door and smiled at me encouragingly, the smile that suddenly instilled me with power. I gazed at grandma's maroon fiery eyes that matched mine. Words were too pale in the moment and some intangible emotion filled the empty space. I suddenly understood the sacrifice of love — to let go of someone you hold most dearest. With sobs and tears, I managed to pronounce my final decision:

“Father, I have made up my mind and that is not going to change. I will pursue an education in the United States.” 

***

In the year 2021, the travel restrictions of the pandemic foreshadow that I would not be able to come home for at least a year. There was an eagerness to return to campus and school life, while another side of me was struggling to say goodbye to my lovely home. The last day before my flight, I took out the album and encountered the picture again. At that instant, with the flashbacks of early memories, I understood through bittersweetness that love is both holding one close and letting go. 

Work Cited   

---.“Chinese K-12 Student Population in U.S. Has Quadrupled in Five Years” Wall Street Journal, 18 December 2015, wsj.com/articles/BL-CJB-28363. Accessed 14 January 2022. 

---. “A Father’s Impact on Child Development” all4kids.org/news/blog/a-fathers-impact-on-child-development/ Children’s Bureau blog, 7 June 2018 Accessed 14 January 2022. 

Norrie, Andrew; Anderson, Pat. “Fatherhood Chinese Style” Father and Child Magazine, issue 18. fatherandchild.org.nz/magazine/issue-18/fatherhood-chinese-style/Accessed 14 January 2022. 

Scheinbaum, Chase. “At What Age Do Childhood Memories Start? Earlier Than You Might Think.” Fatherly, 10 November 2021 fatherly.com/health-science. Accessed 14 January 2022. 

Yang, Chongming; Hart, Craig H.; Nelson, David A.; Porter, Christin L.; Olsen, Susanne F.; Robinson, Clyde C.; and Jin, Shenhua. “Fathering in a Beijing, Chinese Sample: Associations with Boys' and Girls' Negative Emotionality and Aggression.” Faculty Publications, 2004. scholarsarchive.byu.edu/facpub/457. Accessed 14 January 2022