Every adolescent currently entering or already in their teenage years has likely experienced an interlude like this. It is enough to cloud a pair of confused eyes and sufficient to fill a sensitive, moist heart.
“Adolescence” is a term that remains strangely unfamiliar to me. No matter how frequently textbooks, television, or the internet mention it, I still feel lost.
The night air was chilly, and the sound of wind chimes drifted in my ears. “Mom, you are being completely unreasonable! Why do you have to monitor me even when I am reading?” I slammed the door in a fit of rage and tossed the book I had just been reading with great interest onto the bed. I slowly crawled to the corner of the bed, hugged my knees with both arms, and lowered my head. Like an injured little beast, I began to cry.
Had I been too harsh?
With a pang in my heart, I picked up the book and carefully smoothed out the damaged corner. Thinking that I might be scolded once more if I went out, I tiptoed open the door and sneaked out quietly. My mother's door was closed. Had she already fallen asleep? I listened intently, but I did not hear the breathing I expected.
Instead, I heard her voice: “My daughter is throwing a tantrum again. I know kids at this age can be moody… Okay, okay, I will try to understand her…” My head dropped slightly, feeling a mix of sourness and gratitude. I never knew my mother would try so hard to understand me; my heart was filled with mixed emotions.
Back in my room, I opened the cabinet and took out my photo album. I turned the pages, reviewing the history of my growth, my gaze sweeping over the smiling faces in the pictures. Tears suddenly welled up in my eyes. I rested the album behind my head; every single photo in it had been taken by my parents. Thinking of the phone call my mother had just made to my father, I found myself walking to my mother’s room before I knew it. Hesitant for a moment, I still knocked on the door and slipped the note I had just written through the crack.
“Mom, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have lost my temper.”
Adolescence is when all the beauty and spirit of nature are condensed into that house facing the sea. The interludes of youth are both sour and sweet.
May the wind carry away every grain of dust, may youth be imprinted on the journey of memory, and may all disturbances end in warmth. May all these interludes become the most beautiful memories of life.
