Has someone pulled me back and dropped me into the realm of memories? Bells ring from some distant land, accompanied by melancholic melodies. I surrender myself to a sky bathed in golden sunlight. So the sun has finally turned golden, even though life seems to have yet to find peace.
For some reason, the dream of getting lost in strange countryside keeps repeating itself night after night. I'm anxious even in my dreams. The hurried buses abandon me! The roads abandon me too. I'm bewildered, lost in a season of sorrow that has gone and will never return, even though outside, the rain and sunshine silently change with the seasons. In my dream, there's a winding, deserted dike, unsteady footsteps searching for a place to wash away my sorrows. There's a garden where rain falls on the gourd and pumpkin vines, a figure swaying, seeking shelter under the eaves of a house, waiting for a shivering rain to pass...
-Illustration: LE DUY
The changing seasons bring slanted rays of sunlight, transporting me back to childhood, to the moss-covered, ancient village school's eaves. After school, a sudden downpour began. This unseasonal rain soaked the wide, deserted road; the eaves were spacious enough, but offered nowhere for me to hide… A distant tango melody echoed from my tear-streaked eyes. The first rain of the season froze the newly sprouted bamboo shoots. The sun and rain passed, and one day they grew into sturdy bamboo stalks, reaching towards storms. Silently protecting and sheltering themselves, they weathered everything…
A peaceful childhood passed by. There were long nights I dared not sleep, listening to the wind howling on the thatched roof. Rain seeped into the mud walls, soaking everything, even splashing onto where I lay. At night, I counted the raindrops, knowing that the next morning I would walk down the flooded road, my lips trembling from the cold, and feeling pity for someone burdened with a heavy load. Now, standing in the city, I feel even more compassion for those drops of sweat, salty enough to soak a lifetime of hardship so that I could get through the sunny days… I'm constantly tormented by the fact that, even after more than half my life, I still haven't learned the sweet meaning of love. Could that rain from those days connect with the sky of today, so that seasons of love will no longer feel lost and alone…?
The street this afternoon feels both familiar and strange. It whispers of passing footsteps, of tearful farewells and promises. It whispers of someone's anxiety, watching the sky darken with the impending rain, fearing I might forget my green umbrella... I chose to stay in familiar little corners, allowing someone else to walk along every path. Which season is the season of love... the season of remembrance... the season of forgetting...? How many times have I tidied up and tucked everything away in a deep corner of my heart? But then, I don't know how many times I've felt lost on the quiet street, watching the stream of people rushing by. Then, instinctively, I reach out and grab my own hand on this journey still fraught with uncertainty. The gentle afternoon helps me hide the tears of sadness that fall.
Like the faithful sun and rain that fall upon this place throughout the four seasons, the longing sways with each change of season on the streets. It's still the same feeling, each time I wander amidst the vast expanse of sun and wind, the sun shining behind me and the lush green appearing before me. A feeling of peace washes over me. The sweet memories give me strength to continue on the long road ahead. Peaceful, like returning to childhood. There's the moss-covered eaves of the village school, the glowing fire in the kitchen on rainy days, the tranquil village lane where folk songs are sung sweetly at noon, the sound of the hammock swaying. There's a whole sky of cherished memories, a longing that will never fade...
Phuong Ngoc
Source: https://baoquangtri.vn/chao-nghieng-noi-nho-193383.htm
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