Forever 22   

Age 22 is a magic number, it is a symbol of energy, bravery and fearlessness, though sometimes also of youthful, impractical ideas.

Age 22 is interesting to my family.  At that age, my father believed in utopia and embraced the dawn of a new dynasty.  Although that dream turned into a nightmare, he did have his brief days of youthful fantasy.

At 22, bringing a briefcase, a dictionary, a few pieces of wrinkled clothing, and most of all, a childish curiosity to see the world, I boldly touched the land of Maple leaves.  After learning a little bit, I suddenly realized that there were fewer differences between the two sides of the third rock.  We are now in a tiny village with East and West merged.

At 22, Amy blended into a world where working hours never end, in stark contrast to quiet, scholarly crowds where no one is bothered by craziness or greed.  The millennial generation never believed in utopia anyway, and they trust nothing except their own hard work.  Even with native language and culture in hand, this youngster cautiously enjoys riding tide, but must be prepared for sudden tsunamis.

For each generation, 22 associates with a different chapter.  One thing does not change, and will never change, however, for 22 is the wildest age of a lifetime endeavor.  We try to know the unknown, explore the unexplored; we are fearless of any failure whatsoever once we make up our mind. 

Do we hear what 22 is trying to whisper?  No matter what path in life you select, that youthful spirit lives forever.

This year Amy is 22, but that number will jump, so I say Happy B-day, to the sweetest daughter ever.