The sea of tomorrow

A seagull soars towards the setting sun. Evening slowly descends. At sea, even though the sun has long since sunset, the shadows creep across the water's surface very slowly. The twilight, the twilight, often lasts a long time. I once sat in the biting cold, watching the muddy waves crash and dissolve on the sand, as the sea was engulfed in the biting east wind. Then, suddenly, I passed by when the sea was in autumn or spring, truly vibrant. The four seasons remain the same, the murmur of the waves, but only in summer does the sea shimmer with a silky blue hue that matches the sky.

I was born in a fishing village, where the sea was visible from the moment I opened my door. Throughout my childhood, the brightly painted blue and red fishing boats held a special fascination for me. In the afternoons, when the boats docked, I loved immersing myself in the bustling atmosphere of buying and selling at the fish market. Waking up with the sunrise over the sea or watching the sunsets fade into the vast blue expanse, I always found myself lingering among the bobbing boats. Watching the buying and selling along the water's edge, I felt a warmth and hope ignite within me amidst the boundless ocean.

Fishing villages are often devoid of men, as they are typically tied to the arduous work of sailing the seas. The eyes of those at home, therefore, gaze into the distance, waiting. The ancient Vietnamese legend of the "Waiting Wife Stone," depicting a wife holding her child and watching her husband from the sea, has echoed through generations. Even now, the gazes from these fishing villages continue to watch for calm seas and for the safety and resilience of those far out at sea. In the return of each ship, beyond the joy of the fruits of their hard labor, there is an even greater happiness of peace and reunion. Perhaps nowhere holds more danger and uncertainty than the deep sea. Yet, for the sake of survival, generation after generation, people continue their profession and remain connected to the sea.

And it is also because of the desire for calm seas and peaceful weather that every fishing village has its own sacred rituals. Throughout the country, there are as many fishing villages as there are ways of worshipping deities to pray for safety for those who sail the seas. Vietnamese people have strong faith in animism, believing that all things are animistic, as long as people have sincere hearts. When I was a child, and first witnessed the fishing prayer ceremony in my hometown, I was amazed by the elaborate and meticulous preparation of the offerings by the women. Each place had its own way, but the sincerity and the hopes were the same.

One afternoon, surrounded by swirling winds, the sea breeze carried a salty scent. I gazed at the ships far out at sea, from their initial tiny dots to the point where I could touch the creaking wood, smell the pungent aroma of seafood, and see the radiant smiles on sun-tanned faces. Suddenly, my heart swelled with joy. A familiar feeling washed over me as I hurried across the deck. I felt as if I were seeing the small village nestled by the coast, welcoming the ships back to the harbor in the afternoons. I saw the women of the fishing village, their eyes sparkling after days of waiting from the open sea.

For generations to come, the sea will remain a vast part of my homeland, embracing the lives of those born from it. Just thinking about the sea fills my breath with its salty scent...

Source: https://baogialai.com.vn/bien-cua-ngay-mai-post326541.html