Illustration: Nguyen Sa
Winter reminds me of seasons of the past, seasons with drizzling rain carried on the biting north wind. I went through those cold seasons in hunger and hardship that seemed to be beyond measure. My sisters and I were protected by our parents and grandmother, who gave us the only warm blanket in the house and a decent coat, but the cold seemed unforgiving in the face of scarcity. That morning, the weather suddenly turned cold. We shivered, our stomachs churning with hunger. Grandma tightened her scarf around her head, carefully wrapped the two of us securely on the straw-lined bed that creaked whenever we stirred, then went down to the kitchen to light a fire. When the fire was just starting to burn, she put a kettle of water on the stove and carried my sisters and me down to warm ourselves. She told me to watch the stove and keep an eye on my younger sister so she wouldn't play with the fire and burn the house, then she grabbed her basket and hurried out to the gate.
She was gone for a long time and hadn't returned. The water in the kettle was more than half empty. Steam rose with the blazing fire, making the lid jingle and jingle. My younger brother, only three years old, excitedly added more straw to the fire, clapping his hands and laughing with delight. The fire chased away the biting cold, bringing my sisters and me back to life. We waited for her so long that the straw in the kitchen ran out. The fire gradually died down in our anticipation. Finally, it was Mother who returned. She worked as a day laborer at a nearby quarry. Every day, she left before dawn and didn't return until dusk. Before my sisters and I could even rejoice, we saw Mother's eyes were red and swollen. She looked at the extinguished fire, stroked our heads, and choked out that our grandmother was busy and would be sending us to our aunt's house for a few days.
That year's monsoon was very cold. It chilled the innocent souls of the two children, who were used to being away from their parents, but still feared being abandoned. They cried incessantly from the moment their mother drove away from their aunt's house. The next day, their aunt had to take the two sisters and a few sacks of rice back to their mother. When they arrived home, I saw their grandmother lying groaning on the straw bed. It turned out that the day before she had nearly fallen into the river while going to a neighbor's house to borrow rice. Seeing us return, she reached out and hugged the two little ones who had just rushed into her arms, sobbing and scolding them affectionately: "You two little rascals! You were gone for just one day and made me miss you terribly. Why didn't you stay with me for a few days to ease the burden? It's so cold with me, my dears!" The two grandchildren grumbled and refused to go back with their aunt. Their aunt smiled kindly and recounted all the sisters' misdeeds, how they wouldn't eat anything and just cried all day, so she had no choice but to take them back. She went home. She quickly wrapped the two children in a faded cotton blanket, riddled with holes from cockroaches, revealing strands of white cotton that had turned yellow. I nestled against her chest, inhaling her warmth and the familiar scent, the pungent taste of betel nut. I felt that no matter how hungry or poor we were, as long as I was with my grandmother and mother, the cold and hardship didn't matter.
Now, we are content, no longer worried about the cold, the loneliness, or the distance. I have bravely weathered difficult winters and am fortunate to always have loved ones by my side. The monsoon season has arrived. It's very cold. I smile, realizing how lucky I still am. That gloomy sky will soon pass, giving way to the dry sunshine. A melancholic melody will make the music even more poignant. Winter brings me more memories, more affection, and a greater appreciation for the present. Winter makes my heart feel warmer. Here, I still remember those winters of the past.
Source: https://hanoimoi.vn/dong-mang-ky-uc-cung-ve-730476.html
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