Whether eagerly anticipated or apprehensive, summer arrives according to age-old patterns, bringing with it scorching sun and an oppressive heat reminiscent of standing before a brick kiln.

However, it is only after experiencing these hot days that we realize how many things that have long been quietly hidden deep within our thoughts and memories are now illuminated more clearly by the bright golden sunlight.

Illustration photo: baoxaydung.vn

On the sidewalk, where waves of heat rippled from the asphalt, seemingly ready to surge upwards, a frail old figure huddled. Before her lay an old basket containing a few gourds and some jute leaves, her eyes filled with anticipation as a vehicle approached, hoping to earn a few extra pennies before the day ended. Who knows how many more sunny seasons this figure, seemingly about to collapse onto the scorching road, will remain in this world? But that's life; existence—for many, it seems a struggle—a struggle against the harsh and challenging forces of nature.

On the highway, the rumbling traffic, as if trying to escape the scorching sun, suddenly slowed down. Beside the concrete median, a group of workers were repairing and leveling the uneven surface of the road. The deafening noise of cutting and drilling machines filled the air. The asphalt seemed to loosen under the blazing sun. The workers' faces were tanned dark like bronze statues, and the streams of sweat running down their faces also shone darkly like the asphalt.

Walking in the sunny weather, encountering countless scenes of people struggling to make a living and battling the heat, one suddenly realizes that one is not alone in facing hardship and pressure, even though all comparisons are inherently flawed.

Across the vast fields, the sun seems to compete in color and brilliance with the rice paddies ready for harvest. To create those dazzling golden carpets, countless hours of sweat and effort have soaked the brown earth, and for each "golden grain" or "precious grain" to reach the home, a long and arduous journey awaits. A journey of harvesting, drying, and winnowing. A journey of battling against sun, rain, and even storms and floods...

Contrary to predictions, the thunderstorms haven't yet reached the low-lying, flood-prone area of ​​my hometown. Looking through the camera, the tiled courtyard seems even redder after the long days of scorching heat. Suddenly, I see my uncle busily watering the plants with a bucket. Perhaps, having waited so long for the rain to come, he's worried my brother's plants will wither, so he's come to help. His white hair and unsteady gait, burdened by the heavy bucket of water—the image of a soldier who once guarded a border outpost—makes my heart sink. Then I remember those early summer mornings, seeing my aunt hunched over sweeping leaves and tidying the garden for my brothers. My siblings have moved south, to Hanoi , to Hai Phong, leaving only my uncle and aunt behind in our Kinh Bac homeland. Homeland, roots, is always a spiritual anchor for those who live far from home. Perhaps those who remain help to strengthen that anchor, so that those who are far away always feel at peace.

The rain hasn't come yet. It's still sunny. The sun paints the sky a deeper purple than the lilac blossoms. The sun paints the sky a brighter red than the flamboyant tree flowers. My heart suddenly feels nostalgic for my distant school days, then anxious and nervous about my son's high school entrance exam. As my father's footprints fade behind me, I eagerly and hesitantly take my first steps on that same path...

    Source: https://www.qdnd.vn/van-hoa/van-hoc-nghe-thuat/di-trong-ngay-nang-1042506