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Learning a lesson
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IT happened in 1997. One night, I chatted with a friend on the phone for some time before I suddenly had the feeling someone was listening in. I opened the door and saw my mother holding the receiver on the other extension. Looking at me awkwardly, she quietly laid down the receiver and walked out.
I spent a sleepless night, striving for an explanation for what mother had done. Did it mean she was concerned about me? But she invaded my privacy, making her concern an insult — as if I was doing something indecent. I felt rage swelling in me.
I rashly decided to run away from home, just for a few days, to teach my mother a lesson. Coincidentally, my parents were both out the next evening. So I packed up and left a note that read: “Mum, I was so angry with what you did that I am leaving home alone". Then, I walked out feeling like a hero.
That night, I stayed with one of my friends. I thought the night would pass quickly but near midnight, my friend's father told me my mother wanted me on the phone. Her voice sounded so tender from the other end. “I'll pick you up tomorrow, keep warm for the night's sleep," she said.
Not mentioning a word about my leaving the next morning, mother stroked my hair and apologized: “I was wrong to listen in on your telephone conversation. I'm sorry."
I felt like the biggest fool in the world. Stealing a glance at her tired face, I could imagine how worried and anxious she must have been before she finally found me at midnight.
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