Dad - coffee and me

A few early morning sunbeams pierced through the leaves, creating shimmering silver spots on the coffee filter lid... The dark drops of coffee began to fall, little by little, carrying with them stories of old days about my family, about my father...

Fifty years ago, when I was 10, my whole family moved from Saigon to Di An on the afternoon of April 30th. My father said, " Peace has come, let's all go back to our hometown...!"

They set up a thatched-roof coffee shop right on the corner of Truong Tre Street, in front of my alley. There were few regular customers; mostly I saw aunts, uncles, relatives, and older siblings from the "incense-making neighborhood" calling out to each other every morning: "Come in for a cup of coffee before you go to work, folks!"...

...Because we worked in the fields, the shop was already bustling with laughter and chatter by 4 or 5 in the morning. I often woke up early to help my parents make and sell coffee... Actually, I helped wash cups and strainers; I didn't know anything about brewing coffee back then. I remember that the shop only sold "preserved" coffee, so it only needed to be prepared very quickly. Later, I understood that customers also needed to drink quickly so they could get to the fields early. Those who weren't in a hurry would linger for a few more cups of tea to warm their stomachs...

"Kho" coffee, also known as "coffee brewed with a cloth filter," is a unique brewing method deeply rooted in the traditions of Saigon and the old Southern region of Vietnam. The name "kho" likely comes from the cooking and brewing method, where the coffee is stirred and steeped in an aluminum pot or earthenware vessel to keep it warm over a low flame. Much like simmering fish over low heat to allow the flavors to infuse...

"Dry" coffee typically has a slightly bitter taste, but it's also very distinctive, and my generation and those before me still appreciate its rustic, down-to-earth nature.

I don't know exactly when I started "drinking" coffee, and I can't remember when I developed the habit of sitting with a cup of coffee every morning... Maybe it was from that thatched-roof coffee shop near my house back then!

***

I remember...!

The old Di An market used to have several huge tamarind trees at the end. There were several neat, square cement platforms under the tamarind trees, looking very clean. In the evenings, they sold sweet soup, and in the mornings, they sold cakes, sticky rice, and also served as "street corner" coffee stalls – a Southern Vietnamese term referring to the kind of inexpensive coffee shops catering to laborers, often using corners of the market, streets, or sidewalks as makeshift stalls. Customers would squat on small, low wooden or plastic chairs. Perhaps this seating arrangement evokes the image of a toad, or perhaps it refers to the inability to sit still, constantly moving chairs to make room for customers...

When I started my vocational school, every Monday morning my father would take me to this tamarind tree to eat sticky rice and have a cup of coffee. From here, the motorbike taxi station was also nearby. Back then, getting from Di An to my school in District 5, Saigon, required several bus rides. From the Di An motorbike taxi station to Thu Duc. Then from the Thu Duc motorbike taxi station to the bus station to wait for a bus to Saigon.

Back to the topic of coffee. I'll never forget that day...

My dad asked me, "Would you like some Vietnamese filter coffee today?" Then he ordered some for me.

"Filter coffee" refers to a style of coffee drinking using a brewing device of Western origin. The word "phin" is a Vietnamese adaptation of the French word "filtre," meaning "filter." A coffee filter consists of three main parts: a lid, a body containing the coffee grounds, and a filter base placed on a cup where the coffee drips. Because it resembles a hot pot, many people jokingly say it's "a pot sitting on a cup."

When the French introduced coffee to Vietnam, people in Southern Vietnam also became accustomed to this way of drinking it – a slow and relaxed manner, somewhat different from the traditional way of drinking coffee mentioned earlier.

At first, looking at the small drip filter, I didn't know when it was ready to drink! Then, when Dad said, "It's ready!", I clumsily picked up the whole filter and put it down, spilling coffee all over the table... Dad laughed and showed me how. And even now, whenever I hold a filter, I smile to myself, remembering the old days...

***

Three...!

As Tet (Lunar New Year) approached, my father climbed a ladder to prune the leaves from the apricot blossom tree. It was an apricot blossom tree that my older brother had painstakingly cultivated, cared for, and grafted for decades – ever since the liberation, when our family moved in.

My youngest brother and I kept telling Dad to stay home, but he wouldn't listen! That's just how old people are. They often try to do things alone... The ladder fell, and Dad hit his head on the ground... Luckily, he was treated in time. In the hospital, he gradually recovered. I asked him, "Do you want some coffee? The doctor gave you some today!" He nodded slightly. I went down the elevator to buy him a cup of instant coffee. Watching him struggle to take a small sip from the packet, I knew this coffee wasn't as good as the coffee at the small cafe near the neighborhood where he used to sit with his old friends... The bitterness of the coffee he was drinking at that moment would be even more intense if he knew about Uncle Seven's death! (my grandfather's brother)... At that time, my brothers and I told each other to keep it a secret, to not tell Dad yet.

The sun rose high, casting shimmering rays of light into the cup of warm water in my coffee mug. Watching the long streaks of sunlight filter through the leaves, I sipped my coffee and tasted the bitter, salty flavor.

***

Three...!

Hearing my mother's soft call, I hurried down to the kitchen to make her a cup of coffee. Her illness had dragged on, and she was getting weaker, yet she still craved coffee. She craved it so much, but even then, my father only ever gave her a few spoonfuls.

Dad recounted, "The day Mom fell, it was because I went down to the kitchen to make coffee. I told her to lie there, but I only turned away for a moment..." His voice choked up, and I understood.

The day my mother passed away.

At night, the youngest child made a cup of coffee for their mother and placed it on the altar. Another cup was given to their father. He sat silently alone beside his coffee, gazing at their mother's picture.

I watched in silence!

***

I get it.

The image of a father in life has always been a symbol of strength, yet also of silent sacrifice.

I know.

From the time I was a tiny child, my father was ready to dedicate his life to raising me, shouldering immense responsibilities to bring me up into the person I am today.

My father is like a mighty tree, silently sheltering me from the sun and rain, no matter how many storms my life has faced.

Time ticks by, like the last drop of coffee falling slowly.

My mother passed away, and my father is growing weaker and weaker. He has several children by his side day and night, but I know he feels a sense of emptiness and loneliness.

I've noticed that Dad is less talkative and smiles less than before. Every morning and noon, he brews coffee and sits in a corner of the house to drink it. Perhaps each time he takes a sip of coffee, he's picturing Mom enjoying it somewhere – far away.

I can feel the familiar aroma of my parents' old coffee still lingering in the air, spreading, fragrant and warm beside my slowly dripping cup of coffee.

Each drop of coffee that flows down is like a drop of time slowly filling the soul, stirring up memories and emotions that have long been untouched.

And you?

Do you agree with me that a father's love is not just a gift we receive, but also a flame that fuels our lives and gives us meaning? Cherish it, live with it, and pass it on.

Night in Binh Phuoc , April 16, 2025

Hello, dear viewers! Season 4, themed "Father," officially launches on December 27, 2024, across four media platforms and digital infrastructures of Binh Phuoc Radio and Television and Newspaper (BPTV), promising to bring to the public the wonderful values of sacred and beautiful fatherly love.
Please send your touching stories about fathers to BPTV by writing articles, personal reflections, poems, essays, video clips, songs (with audio recordings), etc., via email to chaonheyeuthuongbptv@gmail.com, Editorial Secretariat, Binh Phuoc Radio and Television and Newspaper Station, 228 Tran Hung Dao Street, Tan Phu Ward, Dong Xoai City, Binh Phuoc Province, phone number: 0271.3870403. The deadline for submissions is August 30, 2025.
High-quality articles will be published and shared widely, with payment for their contributions, and prizes will be awarded upon completion of the project, including one grand prize and ten outstanding prizes.
Let's continue writing the story of fathers with "Hello, My Love" Season 4, so that stories about fathers can spread and touch everyone's hearts!

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