Day 3 of 30 Day Writing Challenge
Photo by Roman Kraft on Unsplash
My father passed away 18 years ago. Since I left home for college until he died, how many times did I see him…
Kyoto, where my college was, and my home was two-and-a-half-hour train ride. I don’t know if the distance justifies the fact that I went home less than once a month. After graduating from college, I found a job and move to Tokyo. From there I visited my parents less than once a year. After I moved to Seattle, I visited my parents twice or three times a year, ironic that would visit them more often from abroad than when living in the same country.
So between the time I graduated from high school until his death, maybe I saw my father not more than 90 times. Of course I thought about him when I was not visiting him, but I’m pretty sure it hasn’t happened as often as my father would have liked.
No matter how terrible I may be in remembering my father in my brain, some other parts of my body had never, ever forgotten him.
The shape of my eyes and my nose are the perfect replication of my father’s. It is said that cells that make up a human’s skin are replaced with new cells in two to three weeks. Although cells are replaced that often, my eyes and my nose never fail to keep the same shape, resembling my father. My cells definitely have tremendous amount of memory. Otherwise, how can it be possible?
What is the mechanism of the memory in my skin cells? Where is the memory stored? In the gene? Scientists have decoded the entire human genome. Does it mean that scientists can identify which part of the genome is responsible for remembering the shape of eyes and a nose? In the name of gene therapy, can scientists not only identify which part of the genome has memory of my father’s nose, but even altar them?
Please don’t. I already feel guilty that I don’t store enough memory of my father in my brain. Please let my father’s eyes and nose remain on my face. Don’t take away that memory, please.