paradise, daily life
I have a younger sister one year younger. When she was a child, she would always take out my past mistakes and attack them. Because he did not dare to confront me by force. Whenever that happened, I stuck to Morso with a bright, sometimes unjust expression on my face.
“Me? When did I? I don’t remember.”
My sister went wild with a look of madness, but I really couldn’t remember.
I once went to an oriental medical clinic to set a date for my husband’s wedding. At that time, I conducted various tests at a place that represented a new oriental medical clinic with the latest facilities. I was confident about my health, so I was confident when I heard the results, but I had a bad memory for the Chinese doctor’s embarrassing expression and words!!! Exactly!!! I remember.
“Ha…… the brain waves are similar to those of the elderly with dementia. How’s your memory?”
I was embarrassed at the moment, but it seemed that 26 years of secrecy had been solved. When my sister ran long and asked me if I did it, I didn’t pretend not to know, but I didn’t really remember, and there was a reason why I wondered, “Do you have facial recognition problems?” and “Is there anyone who doesn’t remember names like me?”
My husband tried to relieve my mood with jokes like this and that, saying, “When I get old and get dementia, I wear a dog necklace and follow him around.” However, my bad memory was not a big concern for me. Rather, sad memories and bad memories disappeared together, making it easier to live so-called “in my own pocket.”
However, the memory of dementia came as fear after giving birth to the first child. I thanked God for having a precious child who would not trade for anything in the world, and I, who had no religion in the car back home, and I promised with tears that I would raise him well. And every simple act of laughing, laughing, eating, and wrapping came as a wonder.
What if I forget this beautiful moment?’
What if he’s grown up and doesn’t have anything to say?’
It was the first fear I felt and I began to record. I was obsessed with photography as well as writing. When my mother was young, she asked me if I took such a picture because I didn’t have any pictures, but it was a record of history that I didn’t want to forget about.
“Paradise is or is not in everyday life.”
It’s my favorite phrase. It was also a daily paradise that I realized after a severe case of forty syndrome. I wondered why there were so many people who were better off and better off than me, and why I looked so small, and it became my complex and my self-esteem hit rock bottom. Like “Um Chin-ah” and “Um Chin-ah” and “Um Chin-ah,” other people’s children seem to be doing well, and their husbands were all kind and well-earned. If I had worked a little harder in my school days, I would have lived a better life than I am now,” he said, blaming his parents for not being able to lead him to that path even if he were forced to.
I looked back on my life for the first time and thought about the day I lived. He hung on to the book desperately and became obsessed with writing. My husband said, “I live because I was born, and since I have three children, I should raise them,” adding, “Stop reading that book.” But I would never have realized the happiness of my daily life without the time of the forty-year-old who disassembled and reassembled me. I would not have been able to live my life as a whole compared to others.
Records have played a major role in realizing everyday happiness. I lived with happiness in every moment and I didn’t miss that moment. There are more than a dozen parenting diaries and photo essays, and several exchange diaries with children. He doesn’t play games with his smartphone, but just photos and videos are overflowing with capacity. Is there another house with as many albums as my house?
Children sometimes look up their mother’s parenting diary on the bookshelf. On a hard and tiring day, a parenting diary is unfolded on the desk. Even when I don’t want to study, I get energy from reading the exchange diary I exchanged with my mom. The records I wrote for fear of forgetting the precious moment are now affecting me and my children. And they are continuing endless conversations by using the writings and pictures in the records as a story. Of course, it’s the same story I’ve told you so many times,
In order to enjoy the paradise of everyday life, I record like this. Because I know every time I collapse and I’m frustrated that these records will bring me back up.