The Winter That Buried Our Youth
My dad is a fan of tough love parenting.
When I was a kid, there was a time when I obtained full marks on two subjects. But he told me, "Your grades don't mean anything in life. If you were a true man, you'd leap down five floors without batting an eyelash."
Some time later, I was awarded for my act of bravery. But Dad scoffed in my face.
"Not even a hair is harmed on your head. Why should you be awarded anyway?"
I thought Dad wanted me to go through more training in life.
On Christmas Eve, he ditched me on a snowy mountain under the guise of wanting me to go through more training. He didn't give me a tent or a lighter.
Later on, Dad even brags about his parenting method to his relatives and friends.
"A real man should survive and thrive in a desperate situation! I told Julian that he can forget about being my son if he can't even make his way back to the summit!"
But the red dot on the GPS tracker installed in his phone hasn't moved for the past three hours.
The truth is, I've already frozen to death in the mountains. Trapped in my fist is a scrap of paper detailing the SOS number that Dad had torn apart earlier.
Meanwhile, my soul is currently floating above the dining table while watching Dad brag about his tough love parenting.