We forget so much in life.

Sometimes, even big moments, like a new job title or an accomplishment in a favorite hobby, fade over time.

But certain memories? They stick. And years later, they still move us.

Over the years, I’ve kept a list of the most memorable experiences of my life. I’m up to 65 written memories now. I wanted to know what really stayed with me after all this time.

I expected a few obvious highlights… my children being born, my wedding day, launching a company. But what struck me wasn’t just the milestones. It was the feeling behind them. And it turns out, there’s a pattern.

The most powerful moments in my life weren’t about money or recognition. They were about connection.

They were about that moment in Ventura, California, when a girl named Melissa chose me as her field trip partner in second grade, while I was still in ESL and the only Asian in the class. Something so small, yet unforgettable.

About marching through the streets of Seattle when President Obama won his first term, swept up in the hope of strangers.

About a moment in London, standing in silence after 9/11, surrounded by grief and solidarity with total strangers. I still get emotional remembering the tears rolling down the faces of grizzled British maintenance workers, heads bowed.

About my brother’s wedding in Bordeaux, where friends from more than 11 different countries attended, or a high school basketball game where I finally found my rhythm and scored 20 points as many of my classmates cheered me on.

Looking at this list, I realize that the good stuff in life isn’t always loud. It’s layered.

It’s the way Shari worked multiple jobs so I could go to grad school.

The way Jeffrey and Jeremy’s perspective on the world dramatically broadened during our time living in South Kensington, London.

Now, our lives together are uniquely layered because of those good moments we shared.

What I value most—what lasts—isn’t success in the conventional sense. It’s shared experience. Loyalty. Joy. Travel. Struggle. Redemption.

What about you?

What’s stayed with you—not the résumé lines, but the quiet flashes of joy, love, or courage that shaped you?

Try making your own list.

You might be surprised by what surfaces.