The Education of Love: Emotional Diary of Chinese Children: Middle School Growth Volume

Author: "The Education of Love: A Diary of Emotions for Chinese Children" Competition Organizing Committee
Publisher:
Publishing Date: 2006-09-01
Features:
A gaunt camel father used to often say, "I know my daughter well!" But later, he rarely said that. Yes, after dinner every day, I would hurry back to my room, slam the door, and start doing homework. Every time I finished my homework, it was already past eleven. After saying goodnight to my father, I would fall asleep immediately. On weekends, I was busy with training and couldn’t go out with my father. Despite the deep bond between father and daughter, there was little communication. Gradually, without knowing when, my father stopped taking me to play ball specifically—neither after dinner nor on weekends. He often quietly closed the door to play computer games. And during the little time we had left to communicate—dinner time—I was usually the one talking. He rarely told me stories anymore, not only because many of them I already knew, but also because I often had to point out his mistakes in the era and background. Until today, my father’s line, "Dad is going out to play ball," like a huge boulder, triggered countless memories in my mind. This "domineering lion" had made me participate in so many activities, yet at the same time, I never realized that these were all activities my father enjoyed! Wasn’t he doing this to share more common interests with his daughter? Wasn’t he trying to be a better companion in her growth? Yet I stubbornly "opposed the dictatorship." Now that he no longer "forces" his daughter, does he think he is old? Yes, my father is no longer young; time has consumed his youth. But what made his heart age alongside time wasn’t time itself, but me, his daughter! My rebellion, my arrogance, made him think he was old. Oh my, how could I have done such a foolish thing? Why did I nitpick when listening to stories? Was the era and background really that important? Why didn’t I listen carefully to my father’s reasoning? Why was I so rebellious when participating in various activities? Why couldn’t I understand my father’s good intentions? I thought deeply, and the mist of hot water blurred my vision. Before me, it seemed like a gaunt camel, making me want to cry.