My father - a tree lover.

My mother often tells people that she fell in love with my father simply because he loved trees.

Surprisingly, just because of someone who loves plants and trees, my mother dared to entrust her life to them. My mother said that my father's rustic appearance made him seem unapproachable, but once after Tet (Lunar New Year), my maternal grandfather sent my mother to bring a dying apricot tree to my father for "emergency treatment." My mother watched how tenderly my father received the tree, as if it were a frail child, every gesture so gentle for fear of harming it.

I don't know where it came from, but my mother had the idea that someone who loves plants and trees would never harm anyone. After the time my father saved my mother's plum tree, she fell in love with him.

For all these years, whenever she recounts the story, my mother still remembers the image of my father's large, nimble fingers working swiftly through each step to save the apricot blossom tree. It began with mixing the right type of soil and sand to suit the tree's condition, adding a little coconut fiber to retain moisture. Then, he gently removed the apricot blossom tree from its shallow earthenware pot, the kind people only use to display plants in the spring. After that, he pruned the branches, trimmed away any unnecessary foliage, and transferred it to a larger pot with more soil. The next time she returned, my mother could hardly recognize their apricot blossom tree, for it had sprouted new, vibrant shoots.

My mother said that the apricot tree in front of our house was planted by my father the year I was born. It was on the land my grandparents gave my parents when they moved out on their own. When they first moved in, while my mother was busy arranging the kitchen, my father was most concerned with finding the right place to put the apricot tree. He chose it very carefully; he wanted the tree to live a long time and be a part of the house, like a member of the family.

When I was just learning to walk, the apricot blossoms had already spread their branches, covering the yard. Every spring morning, my father would carry me on his shoulders, letting my tiny hands touch the soft, cool apricot blossoms.

It wasn't until I was a little older that I realized our apricot blossom tree was the most beautiful in the neighborhood. In spring, it burst into vibrant yellow blossoms. From the top of the bridge spanning the river, looking down, you could see our apricot blossom tree illuminating the whole corner of the sky. High school students from town would come down to visit, taking pictures together beside the dazzling tree. At that time, Dad's eyes lit up with joy! He even kept a thermos of cool water ready for guests to help themselves if they were thirsty.

And so, as I grew older, so many springs passed. The apricot blossom tree remained silent all year, but when it was time to pick the leaves, it revealed clusters of buds, and even the young shoots sprouted very quickly. From the 26th of Tet onwards, the buds were noticeably larger. During that time, the first thing I did every morning upon waking up was run out to see if the blossoms had bloomed yet. Around the 29th of Tet, only a few flowers had bloomed, but by the afternoon of the 30th, the tree was simultaneously bursting with color, covering all the branches.

Every year on the first day of the Lunar New Year, I wake up to find my father, neatly dressed, sitting under the apricot tree drinking tea.

In the spring of my 18th year, on the cool morning of the first day of the Lunar New Year, my father called me over to sit with him under the apricot tree and drink a cup of tea to start the year. He asked me, "Do you know how many petals our apricot blossoms have?" Honestly, I had never counted the petals of an apricot blossom. He then asked, "How long do apricot blossoms last before they wither? Do you know?" That question was even harder for me.

It wasn't until much later, when I went away to study and started enjoying growing potted plants indoors and finding relaxation in gazing at the leaves and flowers, that I understood the meaning of my father's somewhat tricky questions about apricot blossoms. He wanted his daughter to slow down, especially during the first days of the new year. To slow down so that I could connect more with what was present. Only then could I find greater peace of mind. The human mind rarely stays in one place. If you're gazing at flowers while your thoughts are elsewhere, how can you appreciate their fragrance and beauty, how can you feel the beauty of spring? Therefore, connecting with nature is also a way to bring your mind back to reality.

Living far from home, I still eagerly look forward to returning every spring to celebrate Tet (Lunar New Year) with my family. Each time I arrive at the entrance to the alley and see the apricot blossom tree laden with clusters of flowers, preparing to burst into vibrant yellow, I feel strangely moved. The feeling of the tree enduring countless seasons of rain and sunshine, yet still offering its fresh blossoms to the world, is like that of a member of the family, waiting for my return each spring.

On the morning of the first day of the Lunar New Year, I enjoyed a cup of fragrant tea with my parents under the apricot blossom tree. Occasionally, a blossom petal would fall in the spring breeze, its golden color remaining vibrant until it detached from the branch.

The first days of the year passed peacefully and calmly. Dad wanted my whole family to truly rest, so that our bodies could recharge with new energy, ready to embark on the journey ahead for each of us.

One year, I stayed home until after the Lunar New Year holiday, and I would inevitably hear the familiar voice of my father's regular customers: "Thank goodness Uncle Tư is home!" – that joyful voice also implied that the customer's precious apricot blossom tree had been saved!

At that moment, the rhythm of life for a new year had begun!

ANH HUONG

Phu Nhuan District, Ho Chi Minh City

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