Grandma's rubber sandals

My family has an old wooden cabinet in the middle room that has faded over the years. Every time I go back to my hometown, I always see my grandmother dusting the cabinet. One time, out of curiosity, I asked my grandmother:

- What's in there that's so precious?

Grandma smiled, her eyes suddenly lit up like the flickering fire of years past:

- There is a part of my youth in there, my child!

Grandma opened the cupboard. On the bottom shelf, wrapped in a worn piece of cloth, was a pair of black rubber slippers. The soles were worn, the straps were cracked, and at first glance, they looked unremarkable. To a child like me at that time, those slippers were just an old thing. But the way Grandma looked at them was different, as if she were looking at a part of a memory, something very sacred.

When the country was at peace, my grandmother was lucky to return to her hometown and live a peaceful life with her children and grandchildren. But my grandmother still kept the old sandals carefully. They still had four straps: two front straps crossed in an X shape, two back straps curved to hug the heel. They looked simple, but when worn, they fit well, were sturdy on the feet, and she didn’t have to worry about slipping when walking in the forest or mountains. The sandal straps were durable and rarely broke. And if they did break, she could fix them with just a few small nails and continue walking as if they had never broken.

Illustration: MINH QUY

- This pair of sandals accompanied him throughout the Dien Bien Phu campaign, then crossed the Truong Son mountain range to fight in the South during the years of resistance against the US. They were worn out because he had trampled over countless mountain slopes, waded through countless rivers and streams, and passed through countless bullets and smoke...

Grandfather's voice dropped, as if blending with the echoes of years of war and bullets. Grandfather said that year, he was only twenty, a volunteer soldier carrying ammunition to the battlefield. The weather was bitterly cold, his feet were in cold mud, his rubber sandals had torn straps, he had to tie them up with a rope and continue walking. One day, his comrades lay down right next to the marching road, their sandals still untucked...

- Every time he looked at his sandals, he remembered his comrades, the misty Truong Son forest, the smell of damp soil in the Dien Bien trenches...

I was speechless. At the time the Dien Bien Phu campaign broke out, he was just twenty. Time passed, his hair turned white, his back was bent, but the memories of the years of war and war had not faded. He said that was the last souvenir he kept from the time of the resistance against the French.

At that time, life was deprived in every way. There was not enough food, let alone shoes. Simple rubber sandals accompanied the soldiers through mountains and forests, throughout the journey of war. To him, it was not just something to wear, but a steadfast, simple and loyal companion like the soldiers of Uncle Ho that year.

After the Dien Bien Phu victory, he returned to his hometown wearing those same sandals. But before he could live a full season of peace, he packed up and left to continue the resistance war against the US. He left behind his old sandals as a silent message to his homeland. As for him, he walked resolutely, as he had many times walked through the rain of bombs and bullets during a time of war and war.

Today, at the war relics exhibition organized by the provincial museum, my grandfather sat in the front row. When it came to the personal relics display, he opened the old cloth bag he brought from home and took out a pair of rubber sandals with worn and faded straps. “These are the sandals I wore during the years in the Dien Bien Phu battlefield…”, he said softly, his eyes stopping on the sandals as if he was seeing a part of his life long ago.

The whole room suddenly became quiet. The way he held the pair of slippers slowly, respectfully, as if caressing a memory, spoke for itself. They were not just inanimate objects. They were witnesses to a fiery youth. They were the remaining souls of fallen comrades. They were a time of living, loving and dedicating themselves to the Fatherland in the simplest of ways.

That year, I was in grade 12 and was chosen to write an essay on the topic “Memories of a time”. I wrote about my grandfather’s sandals. The essay won first prize at the provincial level. I brought a printed copy home to read to my grandfather. I heard the last part: “The rubber sandals are not only a souvenir of an old soldier, but also a symbol of a generation living for the country. The sandals are old, but the ideal is not old. They have gone through the war and continue to walk with us on the path of peace today”. My grandfather had tears in his eyes. He looked at me for a long time, then softly said: - I wish for nothing more than for you to live up to the honor of those who have fallen.

A few summers later, my grandfather passed away. Since then, the wooden cabinet has remained in the same place and the worn, faded rubber slippers have remained in the bottom drawer. But now, I understand, what remains is not just the slippers but also patriotism, sacrifice, and lessons that will never fade.

Linh Chau

Source: https://baoquangtri.vn/doi-dep-cao-su-cua-noi-195770.htm