In 1965, my father volunteered to serve in the army. During the medical examination, he didn't meet the weight requirement and was sent back. He volunteered again, and on his third application, he was called up and assigned to a relief unit for the Southern battlefield. During one battle, he was buried under rubble by a bomb and was thought to be beyond saving. Fortunately, a comrade running by stepped on him, and only then did they realize what had happened and rescue him.
After the war, my father was fortunate enough to return home. He then married my mother, and we were born one after another. In the late 1980s, my parents moved south with their young children to start a new life. It's impossible to recount all the hardships and struggles they faced in the early days of settling in this new land. They cleared barren land to grow crops and raise livestock. Due to difficult circumstances, my eldest sister had to drop out of school in the 6th grade, while my three siblings and I received a proper education. My mother died young from malaria, leaving my father with the heavy burden of providing for the family. The plight of a single father raising his children was heartbreaking. With five mouths to feed, farming and livestock alone were insufficient, so my father worked odd jobs throughout the village.
I don't know who he listened to, but my father cycled to the market 10km from our house to ask to learn tailoring. At that time, tailor shops were a luxury; there was only one in the whole area where we lived. We followed each other, younger and older, giving up clothes that were too small for the older ones to the younger ones, with the older ones looking after the younger ones. During the day, my father worked as a laborer, and in the evening, he cycled 10km to learn tailoring. The owner of the tailor shop, also a man, took pity on my father's situation and agreed to help, only charging a small tuition fee, and telling my father to come and learn whenever he had free time.
Because there was no sewing machine to practice with, my father had to work twice as hard as others. After a year of studying, the teacher gave him an old sewing machine. The teacher told my father to learn and work at the same time, and he could pay him back whenever he had money. For a long time, my father worked as a hired laborer during the day and diligently worked at the sewing machine in the evenings. Money wasn't abundant, but in return, my sisters and I were able to wear better-fitting clothes.
Then my father opened a small tailor shop at home. Back then, there weren't many tailor shops, so my father's work went smoothly, especially at the beginning of the school year and near the Lunar New Year. He would stay up until almost dawn to finish orders for customers. Despite the hard work, joy filled his eyes because his children had money to buy school bags and go to school. Throughout my childhood, the sound of my father's sewing machine became a familiar sound, so much so that if I didn't hear it at night, I would toss and turn and have trouble sleeping.
At 18, I enlisted in the army, and my father was very proud of me. He told me to go and experience life, saying that the discipline of the military would make me stronger. He continued working with his sewing machine every day, but now he had bought a new motor-driven one. He even took on apprentices; my two older sisters also learned the trade from his old sewing machine and opened their own shops. I was discharged from the army and went on to university, then worked for a government agency. My father always told us that whatever profession we chose, as long as we were happy with our work, he still had his sewing shop for us to return to if things got too difficult outside.
The old sewing machine is still kept in the most prominent place in the tailor shop, like a trusted companion that has been with him for more than half his life. Now that his eyesight has deteriorated, he can no longer sew himself, so the shop has been handed over to my older sister to continue the business. My father is a simple man with very ordinary jobs; his only possessions are his Third Class Resistance Medal, the sewing machine that served him during times of hardship, and especially his obedient children. Thank you, Dad, for being both father and mother, guiding me through life.
Hello, dear viewers! Season 4, themed "Father," officially launches on December 27, 2024, across four media platforms and digital infrastructures of Binh Phuoc Radio and Television and Newspaper (BPTV), promising to bring to the public the wonderful values of sacred and beautiful fatherly love. |
Source: https://baobinhphuoc.com.vn/news/19/172111/chiec-may-may-cua-cha
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