Peace after the storm and flood

After the storm, everything was in disarray. The banana trees fell down, scattering leaves that were torn into long strands by the wind. Someone's corrugated iron roof flew across the well's floor, occasionally creaking... Nothing was straight after the storm, except for Dad's back. That back was thin and tired, trying to clean up the mess of mud and slime.

The wind had been blowing loudly for days. There had not been a proper meal cooked in the kitchen behind the house. We huddled in the strongest room, and the only thing we had to eat was a packet of crushed instant noodles and a bottle of water from the house. We had never looked forward to a warm meal so much. A meal of just a few simple dishes, with all the family members.

Today the wind stopped and the water receded. We went to the garden to clean up what was left. Dad cleaned the water tank. The sisters swept away the mud and rubbish that had been swept up by the flood. Mom held the banana tree horizontally and cut a young banana that was still intact. Mom called out, so today we had banana flower salad. The sound of cooking echoed from the kitchen and the smell of hot rice wafted up to the tiled roof, choking our throats. Everyone smiled happily, the first smile after the storm.

Country mother cleans up garden after storm

Mom's banana flower salad was not elaborate, but at the meal after the storm, it suddenly became delicious. Mom thinly sliced ​​the banana flower, and as she sliced, she put it in a basin of water with lemon juice to prevent it from turning black. Mom soaked the banana flower for about 10 minutes, occasionally mixing it with her hands, then washed it and took it out to drain. While waiting, Mom searched for peanuts in a clay pot placed on the kitchen beam, put them in a pan. The peanuts were roasted until golden and fragrant, let them cool, and then peeled off the shell. The sisters finished cleaning the garden, busily helping Mom sift and crush the peanuts into halves or thirds. The bowl of fish sauce to mix the salad was mixed with chili, garlic, sugar, etc. to taste. Mom put the drained banana flower into a large bowl, mixed it with the fish sauce, squeezed a little lemon to add the salad's characteristic sour taste, then sprinkled peanuts on top and it was done.

Hot rice was brought into the room that was not swept away by the flood, along with a bowl of banana flower salad. The meal after the storm mixed with sweat and smiles, warming the remaining drizzle on the porch. Holding the bowl of rice with a few strands of banana flower salad, everyone suddenly became teary-eyed. We appreciated what we had even more, telling each other to cheer up and start building tomorrow from the rubble in the yard.

After the storm, peace returned from the jokes of parents when cleaning the garden, sometimes the humming of songs when repairing the fallen fence. It was the soft laughter of children playing innocently with stagnant water in the yard or the greetings of neighbors. It was a steaming meal with leftover "home-grown" dishes, simple but full of love. The kitchen was warm with the taste of home-cooked meals, as proof of the peace that had returned to every home after the storm and flood. Although the chaos still swayed in my heart, I knew that tomorrow had come with the sunlight drying up all the old hardships.

ORIGINAL

Source: https://www.sggp.org.vn/binh-yen-sau-bao-lu-post822546.html