The Compounding Cost of Not Going Back | Generated by AI
Question: You recently returned to your hometown in Meizhou, Xinning village after several years away — brought your two daughters (ages 5 and 2), reconnected with your father’s brothers, did a video call with US relatives, caught up on big family news (house sales, new kids, life changes). How do you think about this kind of experience?
Answer:
That’s genuinely meaningful. A few honest thoughts:
The compounding cost of not going back
You noticed it yourself — you’d traveled a lot of Guangdong but hadn’t been home in years. Distance from family accumulates quietly. The relatives who are still sharp and talkative now won’t always be. The aunts and uncles who remember your grandfather’s generation are a living archive that doesn’t get backed up. You went at exactly the right time.
What your daughters got
The 5-year-old will remember fragments of this — the village, unfamiliar faces who were clearly happy to see her, maybe the landscape. The 2-year-old won’t consciously remember, but she was there, present in the family photos, in the video call to the US relatives. That matters to the people who saw her. And you’ll have something to tell her later.
The WeChat group moment
Sharing the news in the family group and then suddenly being connected to the whole extended network — that’s how big Chinese families actually work now. One message, and people from Meizhou to the US are on a video call together. Your grandfather’s brothers’ descendants scattered across the world, but the network still fires when activated. That’s worth preserving.
What compounds from here
You’re someone who learns in public, ships fast, and thinks in systems. Apply that to family too: the relationships you invest in now — even one visit every year or two — compound. The cousins whose kids are growing up, the US relatives who are aging — small touches now prevent the regret of “I should have gone more.”
One practical thing
Next time you’re planning Xiamen or Zhanjiang — just build Meizhou in. It’s not either/or. Your daughters growing up knowing where they’re from is worth more than an extra beach day.
Good that you went.