The Only Child
Since I was young, my mom has always said that ‘I have a single child. If I cannot raise you well, they will blame me not you.’ I cannot count that how many times she said this to me. Even though each time sentence structure and word choice she used are different, the essence is still the same. One summer, when I was sixth grade and had to take a high school entrance exam. My parents wanted me to study in a girls’ school which is nearby my house. (I took only 10 minutes to walk to school.) During the time before examination, generally, I had to prepare myself by reading textbooks like the other children. However, I was not very serious about it since I was quite sure that I can pass the examination and the main point is I didn’t like to read books much. I could read them but not whole day. My father keep watching me, and he thought that I didn’t pay enough attention to the exam. One day in afternoon, he came in my room carrying many textbooks while I was drawing picture on my desk. He put them harshly on the desk in front of me and asked me solemnly that ‘What are you doing? Why aren’t you studying books?’ I was silent and looked down to my hands which is laid on my lap not even looked at his face. We lived in silence for five minutes. I didn’t have courage to
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I expected that I could pass this round and would study there soon, but the result was not as I expected. I failed. I was sobbing while telling my mom that I couldn’t get it and asked her that ‘Did I disappoint you, mom?’ She was stunned for a few second and suddenly hold me tight patting my back gently. ‘No, my dear. I know you already did your best. I’m proud of you my daughter. Don’t be sad,’ she consoled me and hugged me tighter, but I didn’t feel better. I truly believed that she actually felt what she said to me, but I didn’t believe that is what she felt and want to say to