Late winter

Seasons transition into seasons with subtle signs, requiring careful observation to detect. For example, the church bells, normally crisp and clear at 4 a.m., are now slightly muffled, perhaps due to the dense morning fog.

The closer it gets to Christmas, the colder it gets. Even in the late afternoon, the wind is already biting. The TV reports that the North is turning cold, with temperatures dropping to ^0° C in some places. This means it will snow in some areas. Hopefully, all the poor children in the highlands will have warm clothes to wear, so they don't have to huddle in corners, wishing like the little match girl in Andersen's fairy tale of the same name. I remember one year when a severe cold spell killed cattle and crops en masse. People could only look up at the sky and weep. I pray that this year the snow will only fall for a few days to welcome Christmas, as a gift from God, and then stop, so that everyone can welcome the new year in warmth and prosperity.

The festive Christmas atmosphere is everywhere in the Catholic neighborhood. Photo: D. Hoa

My house isn't in the Catholic neighborhood, but it's not too far either. If you climb up the fork in the tree by the pond, you can easily see the church bell tower standing tall. Every morning at 4 a.m. and every evening around 6 p.m., the bells ring out their familiar melody. Sometimes, during the day, the bells ring suddenly, signaling that a member of the flock has left this world for the Lord's land.

We often flocked to the church during Christmas to stroll around, take pictures, and watch the performances. A month before Christmas, the neighborhood was bustling with decorations for the streets and houses. Strings of colorful lights were strung all around the church and the nearby streets. In front of each house, nativity scenes and Christmas trees adorned with colorful ornaments were displayed, and wreaths with small bells hung on doorways, signaling that the family was ready for the Christmas season.

What I love most is strolling around the neighborhood in the days leading up to Christmas. The streets sparkle with countless colors, like a beautiful ribbon of light. Cheerful, lively music fills the air everywhere. People flock here in huge numbers, causing traffic jams where you have to inch forward. Young men and women, dressed in their finest clothes, pose for photos. Everyone tries to smile brightly, hoping to get impressive pictures to post on Facebook. Some families even invest in elaborate Santa Claus models that can rotate or wave to visitors thanks to internal motors. The children then crowd around, excitedly shouting and wanting to take pictures with Santa. Seeing everyone gathered at their doorstep taking photos, the homeowners smile contentedly, satisfied that their efforts are appreciated by everyone.

Perhaps the most delightful thing about Christmas is the bone-chilling cold. In this country that's hot year-round, the cold is a special treat. Thanks to the biting wind, young women have the opportunity to wear their vibrant red velvet dresses, accentuating their porcelain skin. Thanks to the cold, people huddle closer together, hand in hand, eye to eye. The cold compels people to draw closer. The cold urges them to embrace and share warmth. The guys probably enjoy the cold the most, taking the opportunity to gallantly drape their coats over their girlfriends' shoulders, just like in those Korean drama scenes.

For some reason, every time Christmas comes around, I feel a strange sense of melancholy. Perhaps it's because it signals the end of the old year and the beginning of a new one. Or maybe it's because on this day, families gather together, celebrate, and wish each other well, making those far from home feel a pang of nostalgia for their homeland.

Even those in the Catholic community who live far away try to return home for Christmas, attend Mass at church, and gather with their families to celebrate the New Year. It seems the church bells sound more subdued during Christmas than usual, or perhaps they are huddled together to ward off the cold. It's also possible the bells are earnestly calling for those far from home to return and reunite with their families.

Waking up early in the morning, we imitated Mom by gathering a pile of dry leaves in the garden and burning them to warm ourselves. We warmed our hands, then our feet. In a short while, we were warm. Back then, my sisters and I would bury sweet potatoes or jackfruit seeds under the pile of leaves, waiting for the fragrant aroma to rise before digging them out to eat. Mom would scold us, saying, "Why make so much smoke that it stings your eyes? It's like you're craving it so much!" But Mom, we really do crave it now. We just wish we had some firewood for the buried sweet potatoes or some roasted jackfruit seeds to enjoy, savoring the warmth while munching away, afraid someone else would snatch them away. After eating, we'd look at each other and burst out laughing because our faces were covered in soot.

One late winter day, filled with poignant longing, a lingering sadness, and a fervent hope: May Tet (Lunar New Year) come quickly so I can return to my mother, to my home…

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