FATHER FORGETS by W. Livingston Larned
Listen, son; I am saying this as you lie asleep, one little paw crumpled under your cheek and the blond curls stickily wet on your damp forehead. I have stolen into your room alone. Just a few minutes ago, as I sat reading my paper in the library, a stifling wave of remorse swept over me. Guiltily I came to your bedside.
There are things I was thinking, son: I had been cross to you. I scolded you as you were dressing for school because you gave your face merely a dab with a twoel. I took you to task for not cleaning your shoes. I called out angrily when you threw some of your things on the floor.
At breakfast I found fault, too. You spilled things. You gulped down your food. You put your elbows on the table. You spread butter too thick on your bread. And as you started off to play and I made for my train, you turned and waved a hand and called, "Goodbye, Daddy!" and I frowned, and said in reply, "Hold your shoulders back!"
Then it began all over again in the late afternoon. As I came Up the road, I spied you, down on your knees, playing marbles. There were holes in your stockings. I humiliated you before you boyfriends by marching you ahead of me to the house. Stockings were expensive - and if you had to buy them you would be more careful! Imagine that, son, form a father!
Do you remember, later, when I was reading in the library, how you came in timidly, with a sort of hurt look in your eyes? When I glanced up over my paper, impatient at the interruption, you hesitated at the door. " What is it you want?" I snapped.
You said nothing, but ran across in one tempestuous plunge, and threw your arms around my neck and kissed me, and your small arms tightened with an affection that God had set blooming in your heart and which even neglect could not wither. And then you were gone, pattering up the stairs.
Well, son, it was shortly afterwards that my paper slipped from my hands and a terrible sickening fear came over me. What has habit been doing to me? The habit of finding fault, of reprimanding - this was my reward to your for being a boy. It was not that I did not love you; it was that I expected too muchof youth. I was measuring you by the yardstick of my own years.
And there was so much that was good and fine and true in yourcharacter. The little heart of you was as big as the dawn itself overthe wide hills. This was shown by your spontaneous impulse to rush in and kiss me good night. Nothing else matters tonight, son. I have come to your bedside in the darkness, and I have knelt there, ashamed!
It is a feeble atonement; I know you would not understand these things if I told them to you during your waking hours. But tomorrow I will be a real daddy! I will chum with you, and suffer when you suffer, and laugh when you alugh. I will bite my tongue when impatient words come. I will keep saying as if it were a ritual: "He is nothing buy a boy - a little boy!"
I am afraid I have visualized you as a man. Yet as I see you now, son, crumpled and weary in your cot, I see that you are still a baby. Yesterday you were in your mother's arms, your head on her shoulder. I have asked too much, too much.
靜聽，我兒：我在你睡熟的時候這樣說，一隻小手掌，被你的小臉壓皺，金色頭髮帖在你潮濕的額頭上。我獨自偷偷溜進你的房間，只是在幾分鐘前，我坐在書房讀報的時候，一種窒息的懊悔情緒遍布我全身，我充滿內疚地來到你的床前。
孩子，這些是我想的事：我曾對你粗暴，當你整裝入學的時候，我責罵你，因為你只用毛巾將臉一抹。我因 為你沒有擦鞋，罰你勞動。當你將東西丟在地板上時，我憤怒地大聲呵斥。
早餐時，我也找茬：你弄灑了東西，你直接吞下你的食物，你將肘放在桌上，你在麵包上抹的黃油太厚。當你開始玩，我去趕火車的時候，你轉過來揮手喊著：“爸爸，再見!”我又皺起眉頭來回答說：“把胸膛挺起來。”
傍晚的時候，這一切又重新開始了。我從街上回來，發現你跪在地上玩石子，你的襪子磨出了洞。我命令你在我前面走回家去，我使你在你朋友面前蒙受恥辱。“襪子費錢——如果你自己賺錢買它們，你就會更小心了!”試想，孩子，那種話竟由一個做父親的口中說出來!
你記得嗎？後來，當我在書房閱讀時，你怎樣畏畏縮縮進來，眼中顯出一種傷感的神色。當我讀完報紙抬起頭來盯著你，對你的“打攪”很不耐煩，你在門邊猶豫著。 “你要幹什麼？”我怒喝道。
你沒有說什麼，而是衝動地一躍，跑過來用兩臂抱住我的脖子，給我一個親吻。你緊緊的兩隻小手臂讓我感到一種熱情——上帝如果將花栽在你心中，即使置之不理，這種熱情也不會使它枯萎。然後你走了，踏擊著樓梯，上樓了。
啊，孩子，在那一瞬間，報紙從我手中溜下去，一種可怕的痛苦和恐懼湧到我的身上。我養成了什麼習慣？找錯的習慣，責備的習慣——這就是我對你做孩子的獎勵。並不是因為我不愛你，那是在為我希望你——一個未成年的孩子的太多，那是用我自己歲數的尺碼，來衡量你的。
在你的品格之中，有許多地方是真、善、美的。你小小的心，是同在廣大的群山那邊的太陽一樣大，從你自然地衝動地跑進來給我親吻可以證明。
孩子，今夜沒有其他事了，我在黑暗中來到你的床邊，我羞慚地跪在這裡! 這是一種微弱的贖罪；我知道如果我在你清醒的時候告訴你，你不能理解這些事。但明天我將是個真實的父親了!我要與你親密，你苦、我也苦，你笑、我也笑。當批評的話來到嘴邊，我要咬我的舌頭。我不斷地說：他不過是一個孩子———一個小孩子! 我恐怕自己已經把你想像成為一個成人。 但當我現在看你的時候，孩子，蜷縮在你的床上，我看見你還是一個嬰孩。昨天你還在母親的懷中，你的頭倚靠在她的肩上。 我要求得太多，太多了。
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