Weed Scene | Smoking

For dinner, my mother bought some delicious cold dishes, and I quickly ate two bowls of rice. Seeing that half of the dishes were left on the table, I hesitated whether to have another bowl. I turned around and found that my father had just finished his bowl of rice. According to the routine, he would have another bowl, but there was not much rice left in the pot, so I put down my chopsticks.

"How about I have a drink?" because I missed the delicious cold dishes.

"There's kumquat wine next to the refrigerator, and there's wine made by my uncle on the table." Mom seemed very happy that I was going to taste her wine.

"Hey, she can drink any kind of alcohol!" It can be heard that Dad is also very happy to have someone to drink with him.

I poured some kumquat wine , which tasted light and had a strong sweet taste. But my mother said that there was no sugar in it, probably because the kumquats were too sweet.

There were only two thick pieces of pickled radish left in the salad bowl. I don't understand why the pickled radish sold nowadays is sweet.

"Your mom has made some delicious pickled radish, it's not sweet. We can cut one and mix it with the soup," said Dad.

Mom took a radish out of her small jar and cut it into thin slices. The sour smell alone was enough to make me drool. Sure enough, it was a delicious sour radish, not a sweet radish.

After finishing the drink, Dad lit a cigarette.

"Can I have one?" I asked.

Hearing this, he showed an indescribable serious expression as if by reflex, which was similar to the expression he showed when he first found out that I was in a relationship at school.

At this time, my hand had already taken out a cigarette from his cigarette box and lit it. The action was neither skillful nor clumsy.

I asked him why not. Why can you drink but not smoke? Why can you smoke but I can't? Why can my male relatives and men of my generation smoke in front of everyone without hesitation, but the women in my family have to hide in the bathroom to smoke.

In fact, before I had the chance to finish asking these questions one by one, I could already feel his tacit approval from the air.

Actually, I don’t like smoking that much. This scene was what I imagined three days ago when I was driving home.

I don't necessarily want to show my rebelliousness. But I want us to be able to discuss things more objectively, bravely and directly when we encounter problems, rather than simply being kidnapped by morality or comparing who has higher authority.

When I was a child, my grandparents didn't like me, probably because I was a girl. My mother was tough by nature, which led to a bad relationship between mother-in-law and daughter-in-law. My father was tormented by the dilemma every day. When they quarreled, I hid in the bamboo forest behind the toilet.

One day, the sun was shining brightly. My grandparents and my mom were arguing fiercely in the yard. I hugged my big-eyed ugly doll and hid in the smallest and darkest room behind the master bedroom. In the scene of their quarrel, I usually don't remember what my dad looks like.

But he showed up that day. He found me. He knelt down in front of me with his knees almost touching the ground and said, "You must listen to your mother in the future." He choked up as he spoke. But at that time, I felt nothing but fear.

After a while, the noise outside became louder and louder, and my mother's almost collapsed crying and screaming forced me to leave the room.

My wet dad was standing in the pond, hugging my mom who was struggling like crazy. She was struggling and shouting "Let me die!" Maybe she wanted to use the pond, which was barely above her knees, to show her determination to die. Because at that moment, my dad, who was hugging her and not wanting her to die, had already finished a bottle of DDT.

Later, my dad was sent to the hospital for gastric lavage. My mom said that some relatives came to the hospital, but the money for the gastric lavage was borrowed from a loan shark until my uncle came and paid the money back to the loan shark.

I can’t remember how old I was that year, but I must have been very young, so young that I had no awareness of sadness.