The little one and I share one profound similarity. On my third trip to Myanmar, a half dozen years ago, my family of five and I went on a family tour. We saw places that Western tourists have rarely seen. Such a place was Set Set Yo. Actually, I never saw the village of less than 1,000 inhabitants. What I saw was a large open area with a Buddhist monastery along with some outbuildings used for farming equipment.

My children presented the monks with an offering of money to assist them. They also gave notebooks and pencils to all the children for school. I busied myself with flipping young preschool children. However, I spent most of my time carrying around a child who wasn’t a year old. I did that for the entire visit to Set Set Yo. I called her the little one. After talking to others about the little one, I finally asked Moh Moh, my adult child, how to say the little one in Burmese. The answer was A Ngal Lay.

The school was on winter break, and the parents took all their children to this large open area. The teens and preteens would babysit for the younger children. I don’t remember how I came to pick up the little one. Nor do I recall whom I gave her to when we left.

However, for a brief moment in time, we connected. A Ngal Lay wasn’t quite a year old, and I wasn’t quite an octogenarian.

Look at her expression. The little one is processing this event. I love my family that I met a dozen years ago. My children are Ko Ko and Moh Moh. Their three girls are my granddaughters. However, I met my great-granddaughter that day at Set Set Yo. A Ngal Lay’s memory of our moment in time has been lost due to childhood amnesia. That is a bittersweet feeling for me. Here I am on the other side of the world, remembering our brief time together.

I have a good friend in Myanmar. Than is a great artist. I have commissioned over a half dozen paintings for me that are in my home. However, one of his paintings that I had him paint is in the home of A Ngal Lay. Her mother and older sister live in their home while her father is working in Malaysia to support his family. That family of four is my extended family in Myanmar. Since those two families are a part of my family, I will continue to support all nine members financially. Hopefully, I’ll be able to visit them sometime in the near future. At 83, it needs to be in the very near future.

Ibn Battuta wrote, “Traveling—it leaves you speechless, then turns you into a storyteller.” I wonder how A Ngal Lay frames the story of an American traveler that she met but doesn’t remember. I’ll jump at the opportunity to chat with my great-granddaughter.

Ibn Battuta also wrote that, “Traveling gives you a home in a thousand strange places, then leaves you a stranger in your own land.” I miss my family members who live in Myanmar. It does make me a stranger here in America.

The following are some photos and videos of the little one who is getting older.