When I was a child in early primary school, I was a latch-key kid. This is what kept me entertained for many hours at home after school. I had a pair of skillful hands with dextrous fingers. I was obsessed with matching corners and lines. I probably made hundreds of cranes in all different sizes during that period of time.
Origami paper didn't reappear in my life until last year when my daughter's school held a fundraiser to raise money for Japan's devastating tsunami. Students and families were asked to make paper cranes for spiritual and monetary purposes. This also sparked an interest in my daughter for the art of origami.
I recently bought a pack of brand new origami paper for for us. We sat down and I made a few things that I still remembered how to make. It brought back lots of memories, and it was enchanting for me to watch my daughter attempt to learn something from which I had a lot of joy doing.
I posted this picture on Facebook, and my high school biology teacher--whose daughter I used to babysit--left a very touching comment for me. She wrote, "Our daughter still fondly remembers when you shared your origami skills with her many years ago!" This is something that happened about 23 years ago, and something I hadn't thought about for a long time. It was really heartwarming for me to see her comment, and even more humbling to realize that I am now sharing my origami skills with my own daughter, 23 years later.
Origami paper is still the same square shape. Those cranes are still made the same exact way. But what I feel now when I make a crane is years of life experience mucked onto my fingertips--making them less agile to make the perfect lines and corners--but the products I construct mean so much more since I am sharing them with people--people I cared for, and now, little peeps I love.
Aged wine tops grape juice in layers and complexity, yo.