Mom's jar

That jar is more than 60 years old, and is still in my house. It has been on a long journey with us since we were born, grew up, and got married...

Ever since I could perceive things, I saw it lying on the well threshold of the house my parents rented when they got married. It was a very large house, with two parts, the upper and lower house, separated by a large yard. From the three-room upper house, you had to go down three steps to another house before reaching the yard. On the right hand side was a well, on the left hand side was a small wooden gate that opened onto a piece of land that my parents later bought to build a new house.

The best part was during the cricket season, during the sleepless afternoons, the two of us sneaked out to the grassy patch of land from the back gate. My brother caught crickets, my job was to carry water and pour it into the cricket hole, then sit and wait with a milk can or a cardboard box, he caught the crickets and put them in, then loosely closed the lid. In the box of crickets he brought back, he put in a few young grasses. My brother also pulled out a strand of hair to tie around the cricket's neck and spun it around, with the intention of making it drunk, then kicking it very hard every time the boys played cricket kicking. This was an unforgettable game for children born before the 80s, and even though I was a girl, I was lucky enough to participate every time I remembered the wooden gate behind the house.

Next to the well was a water jar. In the afternoon, after work, my father would fill the jar with water and call us to take a bath. There was also a cement platform for washing clothes. I remember that time, my mother would soak the clothes in a basin of water, then spread them on the cement platform, rub a bar of soap on them, and scrub them with a brush. The well, the jar, and the platform were also places where children played with water without getting bored.

My father built a new house, the jar started moving for the first time. It was also placed on the well platform which now had a water pump, no longer had to carry water to fill the jar because there was a tap underneath the jar. My mother often used the water in the jar for cooking. My father was in charge of cleaning the jar every week so there was always clean water for my mother to cook.

My father passed away, my mother sold the house and moved from Thanh Hoa to Nha Trang to follow her children who were now working in Nha Trang. The jar that followed her on her journey with her children was also placed on the well threshold in front of the newly bought house. My mother planted some string of pearls, noni, lemon, and bean trellis... This well threshold was very cool, my mother often placed a chair next to the jar to sit and read books or watch people in the neighborhood passing by, chatting. My mother always carried water from the well to fill the jar to water the plants, she never let the jar run out of water. Later, my mother's legs became weak, the jar full of water served as a "support" for my mother to stand up when sitting for a long time, her legs became numb.

At an advanced age, continuing her journey with her children, my mother sold her last house and moved in with my younger sister near my house. The jar and many other belongings of my mother were transferred to my house and my younger sister's. I brought the jar back and placed it at the back door. The jar was always filled with water for me to water the plants or wash my feet after coming back from the beach. Occasionally, passersby would stop and scoop up some water. Early in the morning, from my younger sister's house, my mother walked to my house. I took two chairs, and the two of us sat and talked next to the jar, watching people passing by... Remembering those days with my mother was so happy and peaceful.

Then I sold my house in the city and moved to kilometer 5. The jar had been with me for 6 years and now lies sadly in a corner of the yard. I no longer hold water because it has no use. Now it holds the long hose for watering plants, washing feet, washing cars... The dust of time covers it and it looks so sad when I hurriedly return to Nha Trang and then hurriedly leave.

Inanimate objects, but people are attached to objects that carry many memories of their lives. Now we still call it “Mom’s jar” even though Mom passed away 4 years ago. Looking back at old photos, I feel like it was just yesterday, Mom was still here!

KIM DUY

Source: https://baokhanhhoa.vn/van-hoa/sang-tac/202409/cai-lu-cua-ma-deb7e49/