Every boy or girl who is entering or has already entered puberty will experience an interlude like this, more or less. It is sufficient to bewilder a pair of confused eyes and to fill a sensitive, moist heart.
Puberty is a word that remains unfamiliar to me today. No matter how frequently textbooks, television, or the internet mention it, I remain bewildered.
The night felt cold, accompanied by the sound of wind chimes. "Mom, are you being too unreasonable? Why do you have to watch over me even when I'm just reading?" I slammed the door in a fit of anger and tossed the book I had just been reading with great interest onto the bed. Slowly, I moved to the corner of the bed, hugged my knees with both hands, lowered my head, and cried like an injured little beast.
Was I being too harsh?
With a pang in my heart, I picked up the book and gently smoothed out the damaged corner. I knew that going out would likely lead to another scolding. Tiptoeing, I opened the door and quietly walked out. My mother's room was actually closed. Had she fallen asleep? I listened intently, but there was no breathing sound as I had imagined.
Instead, I heard her voice: "My daughter threw another fit. I know that kids in this stage tend to have worse tempers... Okay, okay, I will try to understand her..." I lowered my head, feeling a mix of sorrow and complex emotions, never having known that my mother was trying so hard to understand me.
Returning to my room, I opened the cabinet and took out some photos, flipping through the pages of my growth history one by one, sweeping my gaze over the smiles in the pictures. Tears suddenly welled up in the corners of my eyes. I placed the album behind my head; every photo in it was taken by my parents. Thinking of the phone call my mother had just made to my father, I unknowingly walked to my mother's room. Hesitant at first, I still knocked on the door and slipped the note I had just written under the door.
"Mom, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have lost my temper."
Youth is the accumulation of all the beauty and vitality of nature into that house facing the sea. The interludes of youth are also a mix of sourness and sweetness.
May the wind sweep away every grain of dust, may youth be branded on the journey of memory, may all disturbances end in warmth. May all interludes become the most beautiful memories of life.
