TheFirstCallingofPapa
MYfatherisaseriousmanandseldomlaughs.Nowondernaughtykidsstraightenupimmediatelyatthesightofhim.Whenwewereyoung,mysisterandIneverdaredtalkorlaughloudlyinfrontofhim.Itwasforbiddeninmyfamily.Nevertheless,Iwasquiteawarethathecaredforus,forwheneverwecalledhim“papa”,therewasalwaysaslightsmileonhisface.Ijustknewhelovedus.Forotherchildren,it’squitenaturalforthemtocalltheirfather“papa”sincebeginningtotalk;however,formysisterandme,itwasadifferentstory.
Whenwewerelittlegirls,myfatherwasservinginthearmy.Hecamebackhomeonceayearandstayedforabouttwoorthreeweeks.Suchashorttimewasfarfromenoughtoletusknowwhat“father”meant.Mymothertoldmeasmallstory.Once,whenasked“whereisyourpapa”,mysisterswiftlytookatarooutofherpocket--inthebabytalkofourdialect,itsnamesoundslike“papa”--“hereitis!”sheboasted,holdingthetarohighaboveherheadproudly.Peopleburstintolaughter.Mysisterstoodataloss,lookingaroundinnocently,notknowingwhatcausedthelaughter.
OnesummerwhenIwasalittlemorethan3yearsoldandmysister6yearsold,myfathercameback.IthappenedthatIwashavinganaponthekang.Thenoiseoutsidewokemeup,butIdidn’tmove.Ijustlistenedquietly.Lateron,Iheardmygrandmaurgingsomebodytoeatfriedeggs(itwasthemostnutritiousfoodatthattime).Iopenedoneeyestealthily,andpeekedatthevisitor.Hewastallandserious,lookingawfulinthegreenarmyuniform.Iclosedmyeyesquickly,pretendingtostillbesleeping.
IlayonthekangforthewholeafternoonuntilIcouldn’tpretendsleepinganymore.Igotupbutrefusedtocallhim“papa”.Icouldn’topenmymouth.Mysisterwasmorescared.Shedarednotlookatmyfather,andshewantedtoeatinthestreetratherthanfacehim.Nobodycouldpullherbackhome.This,nowIguess,musthavedeeplyhurtfather.
Itremainedthesameduringfather’sone-monthholiday.Finallyhemanagedtoapplyforonemoreweek,onlyforthepossibilityofhearingthecallof“papa”fromthebottomofourhearts.Thatweekhetookustwoouttocatchcicadas,whichinthenextfewyearsbecameanannualfamilyactivityduringsummeruntilIwas13or14yearsold.Wewereveryhappy,andforthefirsttime,Ifeltsointimatewiththisseriousman.Holdingtwobagsofcicadasinmyhandandencouragedbyfather,Iopenedmymouthandspitouttheword“papa”.Immediatelyhisseriousfaceturnedintoasmileandthenagrin.Mysister,whowasmoreintrovertedthanme,attemptedtospeakseveraltimeswithtremblinglips,butfailed.Finallyshebracedherself,shapedherlipsandexplodedtheword“pa…”.Fatheransweredandlaughed,asifitwerethemostpleasantvoiceintheworld.
Infact,whenwebecameolder,wegottoknowthatfatherpreferredthetwo-character“papa”totheone-character“pa”,theformerbeingalittlechildishandthelattermoremature.Evennow,asadults,westillcallhim“papa”.Anyway,fathertoldusthatourfirst“papa”and“pa”werethesweetestwordsinhislife.