Night light

In August, the weather turns to autumn, and at night, the city seems to put on a new coat, sparkling under the high-pressure lamps that line the streets. Looking down from above, those streaks of light look like multi-colored threads, skillfully interwoven, winding through each street and alley, magical like in a fairy tale.

The electricity suddenly went out. The shimmering colors vanished, giving way to a dim space under the moonlight. I entered the room, it was dark. I didn’t look for a candle. I just sat quietly, my eyes following the fragile streaks of light that crept through the cracks in the door. The darkness mixed with the dim light suddenly brought me back to my childhood, to the nights sitting next to the oil lamp with its flickering yellow light… That small light had lit up many nights to nurture me as I grew up with my childhood dreams.

That day! More than 40 years ago. That was the period when the country was still facing many difficulties, electricity was still a dream for many families, including mine. All activities and necessities were completely dependent on the ration card system. My mother saved every penny to buy oil for my siblings and I to study. Under that yellow light, we chanted our first lessons… Thinking back on the past, I understand that thanks to the old lamps that illuminated and illuminated us, we have now reached new horizons.

I miss the nights when I fell asleep studying by the lamplight, the fire scorching my blond hair, then waking up with a start to the smell of burnt hair, the next morning my face smeared with soot. Now, many nights in my dreams I still wake up with the smell of burnt hair, the pungent smell of oil spilled on the pages of my book, making me miss it terribly. As I grew older, I gradually understood that each time I lit the lamp, the oil ran out faster, just like my mother, silently sacrificing herself for us to grow up. My mother kept getting older, her hair turning grayer every day, the corners of her eyes becoming thicker with wrinkles so that we could have the happiness we have today.

I remember the August nights, the cool autumn weather, occasionally there were cold breezes gently creeping into the skin through the thin shirt. I shivered at that feeling but was extremely happy because the bright moonlight shone brightly above. In the wind wafted the scent of guava, custard apple, and ripe fruit. We children only wished for that. On those bright moonlit nights, without calling each other, as if by appointment, from the alleys, we children gathered in the cooperative yard to play and have fun with many children's games.

The clear, crisp laughter made the moonlit night more bustling, echoing forever. What we liked most was catching fireflies and putting them in a bottle of penicillin. The flickering light that sometimes suddenly shone made the children look at each other with wide eyes. No one knew how to express it, but we all understood that it was a dream: Light!

On clear, starry nights, we would lie down on the grass by the roadside, looking up and counting: one, two, three… until our mouths were sore. Then each of us would compete to claim a star for ourselves, each believing that our star was the biggest and brightest…

Time flies by. We have entered adolescence. The games of our childhood gradually disappear. The moonlight no longer seems bright, the stars seem to fall less and the fireflies have also flown away. We have left, each to a new horizon. The most common thing is that wherever we go and come, we are overwhelmed by the electric light. Over time, we become accustomed to it, the electric light seems to be natural, available. Tonight, when the power goes out, I still feel a light that never goes out!...

Source: https://baolaocai.vn/anh-sang-dem-post883012.html