Walking amidst the green canopy

That longing, for me, will never fade away, no matter how far I travel.

I have always believed that, in some miraculous way, the origins of this world began with leaves, and the connections of this universe are firmly rooted in leaves, from the time when human life first appeared on this green planet.

The love for plants and flowers, the peaceful serenity before the verdant green, the yearning for hope shining through the glistening leaves under the sunlight, and the trembling, budding movements of green sprouts.

These green spaces are familiar and simple. **Photo: Duy Lê**

Because we're so familiar with it, we no longer pay attention. Then, when the environment and life change in an instant, we are shocked to realize that the color of the leaves evokes a poignant, almost cutting, yearning feeling, touching somewhere deep within our souls—a feeling of verdant green.

My street, not far away, in the chilly months at the end of the year, brings a biting cold that numbs the hands, nose, and cheeks. Yet, people still find comfort in snuggling under a padded jacket, strolling leisurely through the streets on a winter afternoon, inhaling the warm scent of pine needles that have turned a deep brown. A vast expanse of memories, when the first chill of the season gripped the familiar scent of the mountains and hills, infusing someone with "rosy cheeks and red lips," with "wet eyes and soft skin" like an intoxicating elixir.

I parted ways with my beloved mountain town, a long journey filled with memories and vast green plains. And I felt a lump in my throat when I encountered the solemn, sturdy rows of tamarind trees in this sun-drenched sandy land, stretching as far as the eye could see, their serene green canopy echoing against the sky, beside the swaying coconut trees. What a friendly sight! For me, and perhaps for many others, it was a compensation, a comfort, a balance.

I realized this simple truth while walking amidst the green canopy of the new school. The silence of the ancient mango trees seemed to whisper so many heartfelt words, the vibrant blue of the willows shimmering in the midday sun, and the pure white magnolia blossoms concealing a hidden fragrance. And I was surprised, unable to explain, when I stood before a tall chay tree in the school grounds. Was it rustic and simple, or deeply cultural, or simply a beautiful, round canopy that evoked a feeling of peace and tranquility?

In the mountain town during the last months of the year, the biting cold chills the hands. **Photo: Duy Le**

Now, as I pass by it every day, I no longer feel apprehensive, as if it were the presence of a belief, an empathy, a familiarity that needed no explanation, as if it were the same young chay tree in my old small garden, silently shedding its leaves, silently bearing unexpected fruit on an autumn morning when I was no longer there to admire it.

Living in a green urban environment is a source of happiness for modern people. Convenience and comfort cannot take away the need to harmonize and connect with nature as a strong, enduring source. Even though we know that this modern world is always uncertain, as uncertain as how everything is turned upside down after a violent storm.

For the first time in my life, the scent of resinous wood and leaves, usually warm yet refreshing, always capable of soothing the mind and calming the soul, was so pungent that morning. The young green tamarind trees and the dark, ancient banyan trees simultaneously changed color after a night of raging storms. Walking amidst the bare, gaunt trees, imbued with a desolate, "mountainous" hue, someone anxiously awaited, silently counting the days as the first green shoots began to awaken and revive.

If we truly understand that storms and gales are bitter uncertainties, then naturally, after the rain, the sun will shine again. As the poet Ý Nhi predicted: “I see the rain scattering raindrops on the courtyard / If the seeds sprout / there will be transparent leaves / If the sprouts become trees / there will be transparent branches / If the trees bloom / there will be soft, transparent petals / If the flowers bear fruit / we will have seeds as clear as tears.” What's so strange about that? “As long as there is skin and hair, there will be growth; as long as there are sprouts, there will be trees!”

Life is always full of unexpected opposites, fragile and intense, decay and rebirth, suffering and happiness. No matter how weary, anxious, or confused we may be on our journey, faith always sustains us, like the green of hope, as sincere and heartfelt as a leaf that must remain green.

Now, more than a month has passed since the historic storm. Now I know: Time has a… green color. Everywhere, leaves have passed through a season of shock and turmoil, proudly sprouting new shoots, rustling and blossoming with tender buds, and green canopies have revived in the joy of nature and people.

A pair of sparrows perched on a branch of the fig tree, their colors divided: one a light green, like a fresh brushstroke against the sky; the other a deep, resilient green, remaining after the storm. Rows of banyan trees, their newly sprouted leaves sturdy like a flock of paper cranes, gathered together on the branches. And, tenderly, the golden apricot blossoms along the drizzling road, bewildered yet hastily bursting into bloom for another season…

The rebirth in all its forms always brings a sense of peace. Like a belief, with enough patience and perseverance, the color green never fades; it is always the color of the present. At least in the heart of someone far from home, like me, who misses the mountains, that green is like a leaf from years gone by, pressed into a school notebook, one day accidentally flipped open, still imbued with its scent and fresh appearance.

Source: https://baogialai.com.vn/di-giua-vom-xanh-post574831.html