Childhood Memories: A Lesson in Letting Go

GLADYS WONG Energy Healer, Spiritual Counselor & Writer
First Published: October 2, 2016

The Laughing Buddha is a symbol of happiness, contentment, and prosperity

As children, their senses are like sponges, absorbing the sights, sounds, tastes, and emotions that surround us. Some of these memories etch themselves into the DNA of our personal stories, whimsical reminders of times when the world felt enormous and comforting. Today, I want to take you back to a pivotal childhood moment that taught me the importance of not holding onto things too seriously and remembering what truly matters in life.

On a sunny day in 1964, I embarked on my first trip with my family to the enchanting land of the Portuguese colony of Macau. Back then, it was a quiet territory known for its historical architecture and a nascent gambling industry alongside textiles and fishing. Today, Macau has transformed into the “Las Vegas of Asia,” famous for its casinos, luxury resorts, and a unique blend of Portuguese and Chinese cultures.

I have visited Macau numerous times since then. However, one of my many memories from my visits stands out vividly. When we arrived that evening, my family ate dinner at Fat Siu Lau, the Laughing Buddha Restaurant. Established in 1903, this quaint two-story eatery has become a haven for those seeking authentic Portuguese cuisine in Macau. However, what truly captured the diners’ hearts was the unmatched taste of their roast pigeon—a crispy delight accompanied by nothing more than a humble wedge of lemon.

As a six-year-old, I faced a whole pigeon on my plate. With knife and fork, I approached the bird like an artist before a block of marble—eager and bewildered. The intoxicating aroma was an invitation and a puzzle, drawing me closer. As I hesitantly took a tentative lick of its crispy lemon-kissed skin, my dad leaned over with that familiar twinkle in his eyes, “I don’t think you know how to eat that. Let me have it. I’ll order you something else.” Without protest, the pigeon found itself on my dad’s plate, and I watched, speechless, as he gleefully devoured both of them.

At that moment, I felt a pang of disappointment but also the warmth of love. I adored my dad, and in my young heart, I wanted nothing more than to reciprocate the kindness and protection he offered daily. Even if it meant offering him what little roasted delicacy I had, that small, fleeting taste lingered in my memory, stuffed into a pocket of the heart reserved for nostalgia.

Years later, during dinner, I brought up how I felt when he ate my pigeon. He laughed, putting a piece of fish on my plate, and said, “Here, eat this. It’s good for you.”

Life brought me back to Macau when I was a grown-up. Armed with the bittersweet memory of the pigeon that wasn’t meant to be, I made a beeline for Fat Siu Lau, determined to savor that elusive taste finally. But life, as it often does, threw a curveball—there was not a crispy pigeon to be found on the menu! Undeterred, I ordered a plate of pigeon meat, which sadly did not live up to my bright-eyed childhood memory.

As a vegetarian, I often find myself chuckling at the irony. That unforgettable taste, a blend of crispy skin and tangy lemon, etched in my memory, revisited not with disappointment but affection.

What lingers with me more than the flavor is the reminder not to take things too seriously. Emotions and perceptions can play tricks on us, embellishing or distorting reality. It’s natural to feel frustrated in these moments, as grappling with misconceptions or misunderstandings can be challenging.

However, the essence of that day wasn’t just about the food; it was about cherishing moments with my dad, who remains the best father one could ever hope for. Embracing the laughter and imperfections of that experience, I learned to value the memories and love we share more than anything else.

Now, my dad is gone. The lost meal doesn’t draw out the tears whenever I tell this story. Instead, it’s a deep-seated longing to relive just one more day in my father’s company. Those childhood experiences, wrapped in layers of simplicity and love, are a poignant reminder of what truly matters. They urge us to hold the people in our lives dear and not let the trivial ups and downs steal our joy. Ultimately, it’s not about the pigeon for you. It’s about the laughter, the shared stories, and the connection we carry in our hearts.

It’s also crucial for everyone to be mindful of their speech and actions, as these moments can linger in others’ memories and create lasting stories.

I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.” ~ Maya Angelou

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