Every boy and girl who is entering or has entered puberty has experienced, more or less, an interlude like this. It is sufficient to confuse a pair of bewildered eyes and to fill a sensitive, moist heart.
"Puberty" is a term that remains strange to me today. No matter how frequently textbooks, television, or the internet mention it, I still feel bewildered.
The night air was cold, with the sound of wind chimes accompanying my ears. I slammed the door in a fit of anger, tossing the book I had been reading with great interest onto the bed. I muttered, "Mom, are you being too unreasonable? Do you have to control how I read?" I slowly moved to the corner of the bed, hugging my knees with both arms and lowering my head, crying like a wounded little beast.
Then, a wave of guilt washed over me: Had I gone too far?
I picked up the book with a pang of regret, carefully rubbing the crushed corners. Fearing another scolding upon stepping out, I tiptoed to the door and slipped out quietly. Mom's room door was closed. Had she gone to bed? I listened closely but did not hear the expected sound of breathing.
Instead, I heard her voice saying, "My daughter is throwing a tantrum again. I know that kids in her stage can be a bit moody... It's fine, I will try to understand her..." Hearing this, my head lowered in sorrow. I had never realized how hard Mom was trying to understand me, and my heart was filled with mixed emotions.
Returning to my room, I opened the cabinet and took out an album. I flipped through the pages of my growth history, scanning the smiles in the photos one by one. Tears instantly welled up in my eyes. Resting the album behind my head, I recalled that every single photo in it had been taken by my parents. Thinking of the phone call Mom had just made to Dad, I unknowingly walked to the door of Mom's room. Hesitant at first, I still knocked and slid the note I had just written under the door.
"Mom, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have lost my temper."
Youth is the concentration of nature's beauty and spiritual energy in that house facing the sea. The interludes of youth are a blend of sourness and sweetness.
May the wind sweep away every grain of dust, may youth be imprinted on the journey of memory, and may all troubles end in warmth. May all interludes become the most beautiful memories of life.
