Remember What You Loved at 13?

Ever wonder what you were like as a kid? 

Not the stories your parents might have told you, but the real you—what lit you up, what you gravitated toward when no one was watching, what brought you pure joy for reasons you couldn’t even explain at the time?

I've been thinking about this lately because I recently reconnected with something I loved as a 13-year-old and had completely forgotten about.

Picture this: I am on a cruise ship to Scandinavia with my family, visiting our Norwegian exchange student. There are just a few kids under 18 on the entire ship, and we basically have the run of the place. We charm all of those grey-haired adults (because there are only four of us), and somewhere along the way, a couple of older women take the time to teach my brother and me how to play Mah Jongg.

It isn’t a simple game. 

144 tiles, a card of hands you have to follow, with dozens of possible hands made of bams, cracks, dots, dragons, winds, and flowers. 

I remember loving everything about it—the satisfying click of thick tiles as we shuffled them on the table, organizing our hand on a plastic rack (hello, future organizer self!), and the puzzle of choosing what hand to go for as I discarded tiles without locking myself in to one too early.

The tiles were covered in Chinese characters that made no sense to me, but I understood North, East, West, and South. I got the idea of suits. And jokers.

It was colorful, tactile, and auditory. 

It was deeply satisfying in a way I couldn’t explain.

Now, fast forward four decades (or so)!

Some friends were recently learning to play Mah Jongg, and I excitedly texted them and said I knew how. I rummaged through our basement and found my own leather-boxed set—a gift from my parents after that trip. (I remember it cost a small fortune, and we tracked it down in a local game shop. But I had begged them for it!)

My set still had its four copies of the 1982-83 National Mah Jongg League card tucked inside.

Of course, I needed a major refresher. But relearning this game has been like meeting an old friend I haven’t seen in decades. 

You know that feeling when you reconnect with someone from your childhood? You have not known them as an adult, but as you start talking, you remember why you clicked as kids. You find you have a similar sensibility, maybe the same sense of humor. And then there’s this compelling journey of discovering who they have now become.

And after spending time with them, you think, “Now I know why I liked this person as a kid!”

That’s what this has been like—except the old friend is not just a game, but a part of myself.

What did you love when you were young that you have completely lost contact with? What game, activity, or interest brought you absolute joy for reasons you can’t quite name?

Maybe it was building elaborate Lego cities, spending hours drawing, organizing your baseball cards, or putting on plays in the backyard. Maybe it was building forts or something that your adult self would consider silly or impractical.

But those early loves often hold clues about who we really are. 

They show us parts of ourselves that existed before we learned what we were “supposed” to like or be good at.

When I think about 13-year-old me falling in love with Mah Jongg, I see someone who loved sorting and organization (that little organizer was definitely born on that ship), moving fast, but without making rash decisions, and games that required both logic and intuition.

These weren’t just random preferences—they are threads that have woven through my entire life. My organizing self has been incredibly helpful over the years. And I now facilitate strategic planning for organizations.

What would happen if you got more curious about the things that captivated you as a kid? 

Maybe you loved to sing but haven’t done it in years. Maybe you were always building things with your hands. Maybe you were the kid who collected rocks, or wrote stories, or was endlessly curious about how things worked.

Perhaps you are one of those lucky people who still do one of those things you loved as a kid—sing, act, play music, read, or more. 

But those loves—whatever they were—were not random. They were early glimpses of your authentic self—before you learned to second-guess your instincts or worry about what others thought.

And what if reconnecting with one of those forgotten loves could help you remember something important about who you are? What if it could add a little more joy, fun, or satisfaction to your adult life?

Your younger self is still in there, and she might have some wisdom worth listening to.

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