Happy Memories Last a Lifetime If You Know This Simple Truth

The snow was deep, the morning was happy, and the planned activity for the day was the most cheerful. A nearby forest was a place for kids' games and enchanted stories about hidden treasures. The kids from the entire village gathered their sleds, skis, and simple hunks of plastic (those were the best things to sled down the main hill) and met at the designated place.

I put on my best coat. That white-pinkish fake fur made me look like a tiny cloud of thick mist on skinny legs - and taking my makeshift sledding gear, I ran to meet my friends. We had a blast! My face was red, my lips chapped, and my eyes watered from the frosty air, happy shouting and too much laughing.

When I came home at last, much later than my mom allowed me, I looked like a drenched grey mouse. My lovely fur turned into a dirty wet mass. The look on my mother's face said more than words could. But she composed herself, closed her eyes, and sighed with a soft smile on her lips.

I understood fully her words many years after. At that time, they only meant that she was not cross with me, "You know I love you, cutie pie. Life is a collection of happy moments, so let us have another one together. I will make your favorite pancakes. How about that?"

My sister and I were sitting at our small square solid-wood dining table covered with a sunflower tablecloth. My mom always made our house look like one of Stephen Darbishire's summer paintings. We had color sprinkled in each room: handmade pillows, embroidered pictures, and lacy doilies on every surface.

I spilled my tea, dotted the space around my teacup with sugar, and put the cuff of my shirt in jam with no reproachful comments from neither my mom nor my sister. The green tea with ginger, lemon, and honey was my mother's masterpiece. Accompanied by hot pancakes, straight from the pan, it was the greatest luxury of my childhood. I needed to possess a remarkable skill to finish the previous round and soft delicacy in time to stretch my hand for a new hot one before my sister did. It was a fun little competition. Even nowadays we play this game mostly to amuse each other and to make our mom laugh heartily.

My mother knew the power of unconditional love as a parent and chose to show it in three main ways. We can use these in our parenting too:

• Choose happy moments to outline life.

To an outsider's scrupulous eye, it might have been a sad life of many losses, but she decided otherwise. We lost our father when I was three years old, and my mom was only twenty-eight. We were her salvation. Her nature was overly sensitive to every little prick in our humble family life. She shaped our delicate souls with a dominant spirit of unconditional love, and it showed us the path to happiness.

• Allow them to experiment and explore.

We attain knowledge by trial and failure, touch, and pain. My mom knew that it was necessary to have something to regret about. There is no freedom in a house in constant order with kids in a state of never broken obedience. Wild tunes should have their place in every family symphony.

The world around us is alive, ruddy, and satisfying only if we are allowed to make mistakes without fear. Being a living embodiment of love, trust, and understanding, she always thought about the consoling things to say when she saw the sparks of tears in our eyes.

• Make every moment special.

What to use as a measuring scale when you define life is solely a personal choice. There is a multitude of feelings, countless moments, numerous meetings, hopefully, plentiful impressions - everything has its own emotional shade. The good news is we can choose the colors to paint our life.

We are all composed of the fragments of our various experiences. Being a parent myself, I know it is in my power to make most of these personality-building-moments bright, colorful, and happy for my children.