Writer and illustrator Theodor Seuss Geisel, popularly known as Dr. Seuss, once remarked, “Sometimes you will never know the value of a moment until it becomes a memory.” I couldn’t agree more with this statement. I’ve observed that we often take certain moments we’ve experienced in our lives for granted. We hastily file away these significant events without giving them the proper recognition they deserve. These life-altering moments then become unsung memories that remain tucked within the recesses of our minds. I think each and every one of us needs to fully own our experiences, whether good or bad, and share them with others in order to give them an identity. On that note, I’d like to share a small anecdote about my grandmother.

     My darling Nani (Hindi for grandmother) has a collection of photo albums curated over several decades. If I were to stack them all one on top of the other, their height would exceed mine! I love to tease Nani about her preferred old-fashioned method of photo storage, but I know that these albums are precious cargo for her. They are our family’s archives and our very identity. One day while perusing one of Nani’s albums, I came across photos of my mother and her brother as children wearing tell-tale Mickey Mouse ears and grins as huge as the famous theme park they were in. “Nani, Disney World in the 1980’s is almost unrecognizable to me! Some things look the same as today but so much is very different,” I said to my grandmother. Nani looked pensive and then smiled. “Your mother and your uncle had such an amazing time,” she replied. “I’m glad I was able to make that vacation happen for them. Every child should visit Disney at least once and just get to be a kid…happy and carefree.” As I continued scrutinizing the photos, laughing at my mother’s and uncle’s clothes and haircuts, I noticed something which didn’t sit right with me. In every photo my grandmother was in, she was smiling in an uneasy, half-hearted way where her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. When I asked her about it she gently took the album from my hands, closed it and said, “Oh, now enough of these old photos. Let's talk about what we’re going to do for Christmas next month...and let's discuss it over hot chocolate with marshmallows!” “But Nani,” I pressed, “why do you look so weird in those pictures from Disneyland? Did something happen? Were you sick? Oh no! Did you get sick after riding Space Mountain?” Nani averted her eyes from mine, gave a small laugh, and said, “It was so long ago, I don’t even remember. And it doesn’t matter now anyway. C’mon now, scoot into the kitchen...or else I’ll eat all the marshmallows!” That evening, I discreetly asked my mother about the photos and the family trip to Disneyland. “Oh that,” Mom sighed. “Yes, that was definitely one vacation I needed a vacation from when I got home!” Mom explained that her parents were constantly fighting during the trip and that they had been having problems in their marriage for quite some time. “I think that was probably the last trip we took together as a family before my parents separated and my father left us,” Mom said wistfully. “Your Nani was so miserable and sad the entire week we were there, but she did everything she could to make sure your uncle and I had a great experience. We had been begging to go to Disney for so long. She organized the entire trip for our sake. I’m sure it was all physically and emotionally exhausting for her.”

     That night I tossed and turned in my bed thinking about the sacrifices my grandmother had made for her children all those years ago and about how even today she continues to put the needs of everyone in our family above her own. Nani does so much for her children and grandchildren every day. Shouldn’t we all do something for her? Suddenly an idea struck me like lightning and I knew exactly what I wanted to do for Nani. I closed my eyes, sighed contentedly, and slept like a baby. I made my big announcement at breakfast the next morning. “Listen up everyone, I have a suggestion for what we should do for Christmas next month,” I said. “We should surprise Nani with a trip to Disney World!” My father and brother whooped and high-fived each other while my mother beamed at me. “Thank you,” she mouthed and then smiled and winked at me. Later that week my uncle and aunt came over to figure out the logistics of the trip with my parents and make calls to book flights and accommodations. Meanwhile their daughter, my cousin, and I made a list of souvenirs we planned to buy Nani at Disney World. Because we were booking everything only a little over a month in advance and during the peak holiday season, staying at a Disney resort was out of the question. My father came up with a brilliant idea. We could rent a private house on Coco Beach about an hour away from Disney World and then drive there. Everyone agreed that this was ideal because it would allow us to keep up the surprise for Nani until the very last moment when we pulled up at the gates of the theme park.

     The month seemed to simultaneously drag on and speed by. Finally, school closed for winter recess and we were packed and on our way to Orlando! My grandmother, uncle, aunt, and cousin flew out of Newark Airport while my parents, brother, and I departed from JFK Airport. Nani thought only the four of them were going on a short trip to Florida. She had no idea that my family and I were meeting everybody there or that we were all taking her to Disney World. My uncle made it seem like the trip was work-related and he was bringing Nani and the others along so they could escape the harsh New Jersey weather and relax in the sun. In fact, Nani was strolling toward the beach when my family and I pulled up in a rental van honking the horn and loudly playing holiday music. To say Nani was surprised is putting it mildly! And If Nani was beside herself then, imagine her expression when we pulled up to the gates of Disney World! After getting over the initial shock of it all, Nani stood silently in awe for a few minutes. Her eyes glistened a little, and she turned to look at me. Even though neither of us said a word, we each knew what the other was thinking and feeling. Nani enveloped me in a big hug and kissed the top of my head. My brother said, “Nani, your wish is our command. Just name it and it’s yours!” Several family members chimed in at once: “Do you want to ride Space Mountain? How about water rides? What do you want to eat for lunch? Do you want your photo taken with Mickey and Minnie?” Nani looked past us all and pointed to something. “That,” she said. “Right now I want that. I have always wanted to ride one of those!” We turned to see Nani pointing at a mobility scooter and then we all burst out laughing. That warm December day in Orlando, Florida, Nani zipped around Disney World on her red scooter and looked happier than I’ve probably ever seen her. My grandmother braved roller coasters, ate cotton candy, played arcade games, posed for photos with characters, wore Minnie Mouse ears, and smiled a smile that reached her eyes and made them light up. Nani experienced everything her heart desired, and everything she had missed during her first trip to Disney World nearly thirty five years earlier, with a sweet child-like innocence. This may not seem like a big deal to most people, but for my family and me, those moments were more beautiful and triumphant than words can express. That night as Nani and I walked arm in arm through the theme park, holiday fireworks bursting in flaming rainbows over our heads, I asked Nani if she was happy. “Unbelievably so,” she replied. “Good,” I said. “Because everyone should visit Disney at least once and just get to be a kid…happy and carefree.”

     As I happily reflect upon sweet memories of the joy that was so tangible for my grandmother at Disney World nearly two years ago, I also ponder how much time I have left with her to make more memories like these. Tomorrow is never promised to any of us, so we must recognize and appreciate the value of each moment with our loved ones. Acknowledging both the good and bad moments in our lives and talking about them with others helps us take ownership of our experiences and keeps them real for us so that they don’t become forgotten, unsung memories.