We can't go home again

These are the things I did in the last two weeks that have something to do with my high school: I joined a forum for the high school, I found the email address of one of my high school classmates, and I scanned through some of the letters I received in high school and the first ten years after that. It has been very interesting, to say the least.

Of course, I was not one of the star students in high school that everybody remembers. I was rather mediocre and I doubt I left much of an impression on either my classmates or my teachers. So, the memory of my high school years is only precious to me, probably to nobody else.

I read some of the letters. Many hours later, I am still haunted by what my friends and classmates wrote. For some reason, high school was something they would like to forget. For me, on the other hand, the high school years were some of the best years of my life so far.

Memory tends to become bittersweet as time passes by. My tough and hard undergraduate years are simply four of the formative years for me now. At that time, life was such a struggle that I am amazed I went through it in one piece. During all those years, studying in a strange land in a strange language, the memory of my high school years gave me strength to go through the days.

Of course, we can't go home again. But that longing becomes part of the landscape, propelling me to improve my life and my way of living.