old guitar

(AI)

The melancholic guitar music filled the cramped rented room, the notes like the lament of a lost soul. Hoa stood in the doorway, holding a soaking wet clothesline, watching the thin figure of her husband hunched over his old guitar. Three years. Three years since Tuan bought that guitar, and their family life seemed trapped in an inescapable vortex.

"Even if life is harsh, I still dream of a future..." - his voice echoed in the small, warm, and emotional space. She had once been captivated by his voice, having listened to him sing all night long during their early days of dating. But now, every time she hears him sing, her heart aches as if someone is squeezing it tightly. Because she knows that after this performance, he will rush off to distant fairground stages.

In the early days of their marriage, Tuan worked diligently as a construction laborer, his beautiful singing voice only for entertainment. He would come home with his clothes stained with mortar, wash his hands thoroughly, and then pick up his guitar to sing folk songs from his hometown for his wife. "You sing so well!" she would often praise him sincerely.

Unexpectedly, those compliments gradually became a poison that slowly eroded his sanity. When Minh was born, instead of striving to work harder to support his child, he began to have bizarre ideas. "I'll become famous," he told his wife in the evenings after their child had gone to sleep, "I feel I have talent, I just need the opportunity."

From then on, he embarked on his crazy journey: chasing after distant competitions and fairground stages, leaving his wife and young child behind. She had to quit her job at the shop to sell goods on the street. Her once soft hands became calloused, her skin darkened by the sun and wind, and her youth gradually slipped away along with her shattered dreams.

Minh's crying from the corner of the room startled her, making her turn around. Minh was sitting on an old mat, his face smudged with dirt, tears streaming down his face. "Mom, I'm hungry. Where's Dad?" Minh's voice was tinged with an indescribable sadness—the sadness of a child accustomed to deprivation.

"Dad's gone to work, my dear!" she lied, her heart aching. Today, she'd earned twenty thousand dong from her vegetable cart. As for Tuan, he'd been heading towards the district market since morning, apparently there was a folk singing competition.

In the first few months after Minh was born, he still retained some sense of reason. But then the idea of becoming a famous singer began to haunt him. He started quitting his job to sing in small tea rooms and pubs, earning a few pennies and thinking he had embarked on an artistic path. He told his wife one evening after returning from a pub: "Today a customer praised my singing. He said I should enter a competition; I'm sure I'll become famous."

She looked at him, her heart aching. He believed the compliments from a drunk man in a bar as if they were a glimmer of hope. "Honey, please be realistic. We have a young child, and we need money..."

"Don't you believe me?" he interrupted, his eyes showing a hint of hurt. "I really am talented. I just need a chance."

She vividly remembers the morning he went to the provincial competition. Minh had a high fever, and she rushed to the hospital alone with him. She couldn't reach him by phone, and he didn't come home until late that afternoon, completely drunk: "I lost. I guess the judges didn't understand the music." Looking at him, she felt both angry and sorry for him.

Every morning, she wakes up at five o'clock to prepare the goods. On scorching hot days, she wears a faded conical hat, drenched in sweat. On rainy days, she covers her cart with a blue tarp, her clothes soaking wet, and shivers from the cold when she gets home. Lying on her old wooden bed at night, listening to her husband's steady breathing beside her after a day of "singing competitions," she wonders if life still has any meaning.

That September, the teacher called her: "Ms. Hoa! You must come and see Minh perform. Your son is very talented!" She intended to decline because she was busy, but the teacher's voice was so enthusiastic: "Your son sings so well that even I am surprised. You absolutely must come!"

In the small hall, the dim yellow light shone down on the old wooden seats. When Minh stepped onto the stage in his white shirt and black pants, her heart pounded. Then, when he began to sing, she felt as if she had been struck by lightning:

"Even though life may be harsh, I still dream of a better day..."

Minh's voice was clear as a stream, yet it had a familiar, warm depth. She recognized it immediately – it was Tuan's voice, but much brighter and sweeter. The whole hall seemed to freeze, and some people wiped away tears.

She sat there feeling as if her world was collapsing. Her son sang so well, even better than his father. But she was more afraid than happy. Afraid that Minh would be like his father, that he would become delusional, that he would neglect real life to chase after illusions.

"Mom, did I sing well?" Minh asked when he got home, his eyes shining like two stars.

Where did you learn to sing?

- I just listened to Dad sing and learned from him. He taught me. He said I have a voice like his, and that I'll become famous someday, just like he dreamed.

She sat silently for a long time. It turned out that while she was out selling goods, Mr. Tuan had secretly instilled his unrealistic dreams in their child.

That evening, when Tuan came home late with his familiar disappointed expression – once again, he hadn't been chosen – she sat waiting for him at the dining table. The flickering oil lamp cast their shadows on the wall.

"Did you teach the children to sing?" she asked directly. He was surprised.

- That's right! What's the matter?

- I performed at school today. I sang very well.

His eyes suddenly lit up:

- Really? Our child is as talented as his father! See, I told you I was talented!

"Don't you dare teach him anymore," she said, her voice soft but firm as steel.

Why? My child is talented.

She stood up and walked to the window, looking out at the small courtyard.

Look at yourself. What can you sing? Your family is suffering so much, and you want your child to end up like you?

Her words were like a slap in the face to him. He stood motionless in the darkness for a long time before quietly going into the inner room.

From then on, the atmosphere in the house became heavy. He sang less, spoke less, but she knew he hadn't given up. And Minh became quieter. He no longer sang, no longer as cheerful as before.

"Mom, why won't you let me sing?" Minh asked one evening.

- You should focus on your studies.

- But I love singing, Mom. I want to become a singer like Dad dreamed of.

She put down her bowl of rice and looked at her child with a pained expression. Her child had understood his father's dream and had begun to harbor hopes just like Tuan had years ago.

Then one day, an accident happened. Tuan fell off his motorbike on his way home from a competition in another province. He broke his leg and suffered a few minor injuries, requiring a hospital stay. During those sleepless nights by his bedside, watching him lie motionless with his leg in a cast, she felt like a prematurely aged woman.

"Do you regret it?" she asked late one night.

He looked up at the ceiling.

- I don't know. I only know that I can't live without dreams.

What about your wife and children?

- I... I'm sorry!

For the first time in years, he apologized to her. But she knew it wasn't genuine remorse.

When he was discharged from the hospital, there were subtle changes. He found a part-time job, but his mind still wandered frequently. Minh remained quiet, not singing, but his mother saw a longing in his eyes whenever he heard music.

One evening, she decided to have a frank conversation. The two sat opposite each other in the dim light, the distance between them like a chasm.

Do you truly love our child?

Why are you asking that?

- If you truly loved your child, you wouldn't let her suffer like this.

He remained silent.

- I know you're talented. I want you to succeed.

- How did you achieve success? Your way?

She looked straight into her husband's eyes:

- If you truly want your child to be happy, you have to change. Not by completely abandoning your dreams, but by finding the right way to pursue them.

- I will try to earn more money. You teach the children to sing, but you must be serious and methodical. You need to learn about real music and how to train children.

His eyes lit up.

- You... you agree to let our child study music?

- I agree, but you have to become a real father and a real husband.

Tears streamed down his face in the darkness: "I promise!"

Family life began to change. Tuan woke up early to help his wife prepare goods, and in the afternoons, he taught their children to sing properly. He bought books on music and researched scientific training methods. His wife switched to selling bread and boxed meals, and their income increased significantly.

Minh was like a boy reborn. He started singing again, and he improved very quickly under his father's serious guidance. He no longer sang haphazardly like before, but was taught each song and technique individually.

Two years later, Minh participated in the provincial children's singing competition and won first prize. Standing on the big stage under the spotlights, holding the gold trophy, he said into the microphone: "I thank Mom and Dad. Dad taught me how to sing properly, and Mom sacrificed everything so I could pursue my dream."

Hoa sat in the audience, tears streaming down her weary face. Beside her, Tuan also wept—but these were tears of happiness. His unfulfilled dream was now becoming a reality through his child.

Back home, the family of three gathered around a simple meal. Looking at her husband and children, her heart overflowed with happiness. She had learned a new way of loving – not by forbidding or opposing dreams, but by making them a reality in a wiser way. Sometimes, the dreams of this generation may not come true, but they can be continued and fulfilled by the next generation.

Emperor Tang Hoang Phi

Source: https://baolongan.vn/cay-dan-cu-a203185.html