The rice field was our whole world back then. There was a babbling ditch where schools of perch would peek out from beneath the slippery weeds. The children would roll up their trousers, shouting and running along the ditch searching for crab burrows and catching fish. Some would plunge both hands into the water, surfacing with handfuls of dark mud, their faces beaming with joy at finding a plump perch.
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| Photo: TK |
On the other side was a wide grassy field, where groups of children gathered to play the game of "Dragon and Snake." The leader's voice boomed: "Dragon and snake, climbing to the clouds! There's a Nuc Nuc tree, there's a house where soldiers gather! Asking if the doctor is home!" The children ran and giggled, their little feet smeared with mud. Occasionally, one would fall onto the grass, then spring up immediately, as cheerful as if they had never known pain.
Far away on the high mound, kites with whistles filled the wind, their melodious whistles echoing through the air. With each strong gust of wind, the kites soared higher, followed by the excited shouts of the children. Some fell headfirst into the rice paddies while trying to hold onto the taut kite strings, causing everyone to burst into laughter.
As the setting sun cast its long shadows on the water, the children gradually made their way home. The scent of straw wafted in the breeze. Mothers' voices called out to their children from the edge of the village. We walked along, grinning and recounting our afternoon's exploits: who caught the most fish, who ran the fastest, who flew the highest kite. These simple joys seeped into our souls like the last rays of sunlight, gentle yet deeply penetrating. We returned home, the sound of buckets of water splashing onto our mud-covered bodies. Some of us even jumped into the pond to wash up quickly, only rinsing off with the shallow water. So, in our childhood, our skin smelled of the scorching sun and the pungent scent of straw and grass. Yet, whenever we returned home, the dogs would detect our scent from afar and jump up to greet us. That was the scent of our homeland in the days of straw.
Even now, whenever I stand before the countryside fields, I can still hear the echoes of my childhood's joyful shouts. There, I saw bare feet, mud-stained hands, and innocent smiles that will never fade. Those fields will forever remain the sky of my childhood – pure, vibrant, and overflowing with love.
DUONG MY ANH
Source: https://baokhanhhoa.vn/van-hoa/sang-tac/202504/canh-dong-tuoi-tho-toi-f4d03cf/
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