Original link: https://oldj.net/article/2022/09/29/memories-of-an-elder/
When I was in the third and fourth grade of elementary school, my father took me to a dinner party at a distant relative’s house. It was probably a happy event like marrying a daughter. The closest to us is the elder in the distant relative’s family, who was retired at the time and was taking care of his old age in his hometown.
We arrived early, before the banquet started. The adults gathered in twos and threes to chat. I didn’t know anyone, so I sat in the courtyard waiting for the banquet to start.
After a while, a job suddenly came, it seemed to be sawing some wood, and the adults in the yard started to work. I watched boredly for a while and understood the trick. There was a free saw next to me, so I picked it up, picked up wood, and learned to saw it.
Just sawing for a while, the elder found out. He went into the house and took a can of coconut milk and handed it to me. He smiled and said that you love labor. This is a reward for you!
I was a little flattered. I looked at my dad who was helping out not far away. Dad nodded to me, so I happily took it over. The work of sawing wood in my hand naturally stopped.
It was the first time in my life that I drank coconut water. I can’t remember the first time I drank Coke and orange juice for the first time, but the experience of drinking coconut juice for the first time was deeply engraved on the elder’s white hair and kind smile. in memory.
Years later, when I recalled the scene again, I suddenly realized that the elder at that time seemed to have handled a small matter with extremely high emotional intelligence.
Maybe he was afraid that I would saw himself, maybe he was afraid that I would cut the wood or break the saw, or maybe he just thought it was inappropriate for a child to do this work, in short, he wanted me to stop the work at hand.
There are many ways to stop an eager but potentially disserviceable kid, for example, he could simply tell me not to do it, or be rough and take the saw out of my hand, I don’t think anyone would find anything wrong , but he chose a gracious and warm way – giving me a delicious drink and telling me it was a reward for my labor of love. If it’s really just to reward my labor, it can be rewarded when I’m done, not when I’m just starting, right?
With the drink in my hand, I naturally put down the saw, and by the time I happily finish the drink, the work of sawing the wood is long over, and the banquet begins.
All are happy.
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