I have been reading a lot of Dear Teen Me stories. It got me to think, what would I write to myself? Did I want to recall such memories like those of whom I read? Memories filled with regrets, hate, decisions to make us who we are today. Do I want to think of my bad memories as the memories that helped make me a better person?

Was being disregarded by my uncle, when all I wanted to do was follow along in the walk and he told me to go back home, a memory I want to use. When my neighbor kid would come over and say that our dog liked him better, and we had to force the dog back home. Following girls into the boy’s bathroom because I thought it was cool, but we got caught by a teacher and was told on. Being lifted upside down by a boy who I considered a friend, were these memories to be used? Did I want to remember how I had gotten a reward for something and my name was listed with others in the lunch room. How my sister was trying to show me, but the girls sitting across from us thought my sister was pointing her fingers at them. A few minutes later, my sister would run to the girl’s bathroom in tears. Is this how I want to remember things?

I just realized… These are all my memories of California… I was just a kid, younger than eight, and I was going through all that. I wonder what it would have been like if my parents decided to stay.

Is it better that we moved?

Do these memories mold me in anyway? Did I learn from them? Did I become a better person?

I learnt that family, although I cannot live without them, is better to be missed than hated.

I learnt that our family is just not cut out to take care of animals, except for goldfishes.

I learnt that true friends will stick by you, even after all the hard times you go through together.

I learnt that I lived in a racist world, were people I loved get hurt, yet we had to deal with it.

Remembering all these memories, I am kind of glad to get away from that harsh environment. Sure there were some bad times here in Wisconsin too, but it did get better. I can’t even imagine the person I would be if I still stuck around those people. Even if I did have a childhood friend there, would they be willing to deal with a girl like me? Would a girl like me being okay dealing with people like them?

There are many more moments in California, too much to write out now. Some I would not like to remember.