Stories from My Youth: V - Conscious of Conscience

So happily I closed the zipper of my bag, and smiled to myself: tomorrow I shall treat all my friends to snack, just like last week. I slowly took off my socks and put on my pajamas. I lied down on my small bed, and slept with the lights on. My brothers were still watching TV outside with Father and Mama. Mother was still in the shower.

Suddenly, Mother bursted into the room, opened my bag and took out the twenty dollar bill I snuck into the small compartment of the bag. I shot straight up and watched her unfold my secret. She stood, closed the door, and commanded me to stand up. I instinctively followed her command. she held the bill right up to my eyes, and asked,

"How did this get here?"

I tried to cover up with the best possible lie. "I was just playing with it." My eyes, however, averted hers; my mouth found no more words; my face must have been burnt with shame.

"Are you, my son, stealing?"

The question was left unanswered. She immediately went to my desk and grabbed a small ruler, took my hand, and smacked it several times. I looked on like a robot, taking the punishment like a labouratory mouse.

But the she stopped. She threw aside the ruler and cried.

I saw those tears flooding out of her eyes, and for the first time in my young life, I knew what it means to be wrong. I was wrong. Not only that, but I had hurt Mother in being wrong.

Mother was sobbing, and I, too, started to cry. Father came into the room and saw the scene. Initially he wanted to inquire the happenstance, but Mother gave him a quick look, and Father withdrew.

What happened afterwards I can no longer remember. Did I get a good night sleep? Did Mother get a good night sleep? What happened the day after at school? Did I pine to treat my friends to snacks?

I was wrong. The voice of conscience made its grand entrance into my consciousness, and never left.