Sometimes, children unexpectedly give us the answers to the questions we’ve been asking ourselves as adults.
My six-year-old daughter has done that for me—not just once, but many times.
As I was trying to figure out why I wanted to naturalize as a Japanese citizen, she unknowingly gave me the answer.
We were on a plane landing in the United States when my husband excitedly told her, “This is your country.”
Her response stunned both of us.
She said, “This is my country, but this is not my home.”
I couldn’t say a word. My mind just went blank.
At that moment, I realized something profound: a country doesn’t have to be your home, and your home doesn’t always have to be your country.
I’m from the Philippines. My husband is from the United States. Yet we chose Japan as our home, and that’s where we plan to stay.
Without realizing it, my daughter answered the question I’d been asking myself all along. If Japan is truly our home—where we belong—then becoming a Japanese citizen is simply a reflection of that.
Another time, she taught me something about privacy.
One day in the U.S., she suddenly called me because she had a nosebleed from the dry air. She wasn’t scared at all because one of her classmates in Japan had experienced the same thing before, and we had already talked about it. She knew it wasn’t dangerous.
When I saw her, there was quite a bit of blood. I wasn’t worried, but I instinctively wanted to take a photo because it was her very first nosebleed.
I asked my husband to take a picture.
She immediately said, “No.”
I asked her why.
She replied, “Because it’s embarrassing. I don’t want that memory.”
I told her, “But it’s your first nosebleed. I want to remember it.”
Then she said something that stopped me.
“It’s like taking a picture of my private parts.”
That was enough.
I immediately understood.
It was her body, her memory, and her privacy.
Then she added, “I can just remember it with my brain.”
Sometimes children have such a simple yet powerful way of seeing things. They remind us that not every moment has to be captured with a camera. Some memories are meant to stay in our hearts and minds.
Another lesson came during summer vacation.
Like many parents, I wanted her to keep studying. I encouraged her to practice almost every day.
One day she gently told me, “During the first semester, I did my best every day with my teacher. But now it’s summer vacation. I just want to relax.”
She was right.
She had already worked hard for months.
Summer vacation exists for a reason.
Children deserve a chance to rest, play, and simply be children.
So I stopped pushing her so much.
Looking back, I realized something.
Sometimes, it’s the adults who need to learn from children.
As adults, we’re constantly chasing goals, meeting expectations, and trying to keep up with what we think we should be doing. In the process, we often forget to ask ourselves what is actually right for us.
We’re not robots.
We’re human beings.
We need rest.
We need joy.
We need a place to call home.
And sometimes, it takes a child to remind us of the things we’ve forgotten.
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