Lullaby, the hammock sways gently.

"Oh, oh..." The familiar, gentle lullaby, like a cool breeze from childhood summer afternoons, echoes in my memory like a soothing melody. Every time I hear someone sing that song, my heart aches, and I feel like a child again, nestled in my mother's arms, listening to the rocking of the hammock, slowly drifting into peaceful sleep.

Illustrative image

When I was little, I loved being rocked to sleep by my mother in a bamboo hammock strung between two pillars of the house. The hammock was green, worn with age, but for me it held a whole realm of sweet memories .

"Oh, oh... if only the wooden bridge were nailed together / The rickety bamboo bridge is difficult to cross...", my mother's voice, soft and slow, blended with the wind rustling through the leaves, with the dry midday sun outside the porch.

I can't remember how many times I fell asleep in the hammock, I only remember those childhood days filled with love, enveloped by my mother's singing, and the gentle swaying of the hammock like the very breath of my homeland.

In that same hammock, Grandma would sit chewing betel nut, telling us children fairy tales. It was also where Dad would rest after long days working in the fields, his eyes half-closed, softly humming a traditional Vietnamese folk song.

I remember those summer afternoons when it suddenly started raining heavily, and my sisters and I would gather around the hammock, listening to Mom tell stories about her childhood. She said that our grandparents used to lull her to sleep with those same songs.

It turns out that those lullabies are not just songs, but also a thread connecting generations, a flow of kinship, and the warmth of family.

Growing up, I left home, and even the bamboo hammock that had worn down with time. Busy with work, I rarely had the chance to hear those lullabies from years ago.

The city is bustling, life is hectic, and no one lulls anyone to sleep with the old lullabies anymore. Some nights, tossing and turning amidst the noisy city, I miss my mother, I miss the rhythm of the hammock from my childhood.

I long to return to those summer afternoons lying in my mother's arms, listening to her familiar lullaby, feeling the warmth of her thin but loving hands. But time can never be turned back…

On my return home, I was surprised to see the bamboo hammock still there, though much older. My mother no longer rocked me to sleep as before, but the lullaby still echoed in my mind: "Oh, oh... the wind sways the bamboo branches gently / My mother's lullaby resonates throughout my life..." The lullaby of my childhood is the love of my family, of my mother, that will always be with me throughout my life.

Nguyen Van Nhat Thanh

Source: https://baolongan.vn/au-o-nhip-vong-dong-dua-a193675.html