I want to know what happiness feels like.

So, I set out to find the happiness I once knew.

Happiness was sunlight filtering through the pine needles outside, streaming into my little room. It was Chinese New Year, the warmth of family gathered around the TV, counting down to midnight, singing “難忘今宵” together—it was the biggest celebration of the year. Twenty years ago, the world seemed full of hope. Though I didn’t have many pretty dresses like other girls, I was still the beloved granddaughter of my grandparents.

Little me could stare at an electrical outlet on the wall and laugh for hours. I would mischievously pull out the clothes my grandmother had carefully folded in her drawer and scatter them across the floor, just to see her face flash with both irritation and affection. I’d blow on my grandpa’s old harmonica, draw on my grandma’s walls with crayons, bounce on my grandfather’s belly as he held me close. I’d steal snacks, cry when my grandma scolded me, and grandpa would console me, saying, “Crying and laughing, nose and eyes all leaky.” Then he’d take me by the hand, marching “left, right, left” as he taught me to walk, or I’d forget everything in my dad’s Jeep as he took me out for a ride.

I was happy. I basked in a love that was boundless and free. My grandpa and dad would lift their hands like little antlers and playfully head-butt with me. Maybe that’s why I would later shout “Concussion!” and pretend to headbutt Miss Lin—a playful remnant from those days. My cousin would lift me up and teach me to clean the floor with a cloth, imitating the clever character Ikkyu. I even had a giant stuffed tiger, larger than I was, and when I rode on it, I felt like I was on top of the world.

Whoever would buy me a life-sized tiger must have loved me deeply.

But as soon as growing up gets involved, childhood is no longer childhood.

I think adults are just children who’ve been forced to learn how to survive alone.

I am deeply grateful to that world of twenty years ago, which offered such gentleness to so many young children. I have come to realize that a happy childhood is an extraordinary privilege. I think that the goodness I carry with me throughout my life is directly linked to the unconditional love I received then.

My soul has never forgotten; my life was nourished and raised by the most real and vibrant love this world could give.