I remember being beaten by my father

Childhood, because of the frailty and illness, but also the eldest son and grandson of the family, so almost all grew up in the care of the family, although the life is not rich, but almost no grievances.

In my memory, I only once suffered a fat beating from my father, nearly 30 years later, and now I still feel like it happened two or three years ago. Because that beating made me remember too deeply, it may make me remember it for a lifetime, after all, that beating was too unworthy, I was beaten in vain.

So many years have passed, the grievances at that time have become the talk of the talk, and I and the years and my father have already reached a reconciliation, because my father has always felt guilty about the beating of me, so in the days after I was beaten, it seems that I only mentioned this matter once and caused my father to cry.

I don't remember when I was seven or eight years old, when the rural schools were on holiday when it was time to harvest the wheat, and the teachers were all laborers at home. The wheat holiday is our children's favorite, first because of the young age do not have to work, the second because it is not winter and summer vacation and there is no homework, the so-called holiday, we only have one thing: play.

The grown-ups don't have time to take care of us, we can play all over the countryside: river banks, fields, courtyards. Because I was generally a year older than the children in the neighborhood, I naturally became the king of the children around me. Every day, a group of people would be taken to play various self-created games at home, until one day, the family lost 15 dollars.

15 yuan was not a small amount in the countryside at that time, after all, I clearly remember that my tuition fee for the first grade was only 12 yuan, because I played idle every day, and the first time I lost money, my father and mother suspected that I stole money and shook off with my friends. Since it was the wheat harvest, my father only told me to take out the stolen money quickly, or that if the crops were finished, they would definitely clean me up. Because I didn't take the money at all, and I didn't realize the importance of the 15 yuan to the family, I didn't take my father's words to heart at all.

About two weeks later, at noon when all the farm work in the house had come to an end, when I came home after crazy play, I suddenly found that the atmosphere was unusually wrong, and my father and mother seemed to be sitting in the hall house, and my father took a finger-thick dried bamboo strip that fell from the broom. When I entered the house, I knelt down, and then shouted again to make me admit that I had stolen the 15 dollars, and I must tell me where the 15 dollars went, because I did not take nature and denied it. My father scolded me for about ten minutes, and my mother and grandmother were also on the side to let me admit to the theft, and after I repeatedly denied it, my father seemed to be suddenly disappointed and seemed to have exhausted his patience, and in an instant he grabbed me with his left hand, and the bamboo strip in his right hand fell like a raindrop on his back (when writing this paragraph, my back suddenly felt tight, a little inexplicable pain). My father scolded me loudly as he beat me and made me admit that I stole the money. At first, because I didn't steal the money, I kept saying very hard that I didn't steal it, and I didn't steal it when I killed it. Unexpectedly, each of my rebuttals seemed to violate the authority of my father's parents, and the more fiercely I refuted them, the greater the power of the bamboo strips.

When the bamboo sticks first began to fall, my mother and grandmother had been talking to my father, saying that I should not steal the family's money and be dishonest. But when I was about 50 to 70 bamboo sticks, my grandmother, who had hurt me since childhood, first couldn't help but ask my father to stop and let me quickly confess the crime of stealing money. After about 10 more beatings, my mother couldn't help it, and joined my grandmother's ranks, while asking my father to stop, I quickly admitted it, so as not to be beaten more. Later, I always thought against my heart that the pleas of my grandmother and mother played a role, in fact, the fact was that I did not have the backbone of being a hero at all, and when I was about 100 times, I really couldn't stand the pain, and I cried and shouted, I stole it. I remember the moment I confessed, my father suddenly froze in place, a little sluggishly threw away the bamboo strip crouched next to me and cried loudly. Years later I kept thinking, with my perseverance, that if I had been arrested in the war years, if I had joined the revolution, I would have been a traitor.

Later, I casually weaved a few reasons to find a "reasonable" home for the 15 yuan. Later, I slept on my stomach for three days, and my grandmother put a hot towel on my back for three days, and a navy shirt on the tip of the good end was also drawn into a cloth strip. To tell the truth, in the three days of lying on my stomach, I have thought several times about dying mingzhi, when there are often people in the countryside who can't think of it, choose to hang or drink pesticides to end their lives, I also seriously thought about these two ways, but helplessly I was very intimidated in my bones, and each way of seeking death finally did self-denial.

After another seven or eight days, the wheat vacation was over, I picked up my school bag and went to school, the family seemed to have forgotten about it, and I was still a good student in the eyes of the teacher, and the object of the child's learning needed to be emulated in the eyes of the neighbor. But I have not forgotten that countless times I have secretly buried my head in the quilt alone and wept, hating my father for being so cruel, hating the thief for making me wronged.

A few years later, I went to junior high school and started boarding life, and one weekend when I was chatting with my mother, I seriously told my mother about this thing that made me angry, and I told my mother that I admitted that I did not steal money at all because I could not stand the pain. But my father and I never communicated about it.

During the summer vacation of a certain college, when our family chatted together and didn't know what to talk about, I suddenly said viciously to my father: "I will have children in the future, I will never be a father like you, your father is not qualified at all, you wronged me and beat me, I still remember it." When my father, who had been smiling and chatting, heard my words, his eyes suddenly dimmed, and after sighing, tears began to swirl in his eyes. Looking at my father's tearful appearance, although I regretted talking to my father in that tone, I actually had an inexplicable ease and pride.

Since then, I have chosen to be relieved in this matter, and at some point I apologized to my father while having two drinks with my father, but my father was not willing to mention it again. I knew that although I had let go of this matter, my father's heart had not let go, and he had been beating his eldest son who was often sick when he was a child.

At noon, I chatted with a friend who did children's education, talked about the problem of children's childhood memory, we all think that today's children are generally precocious, and it is particularly important to establish the correct cognition of children's childhood.