River of childhood

(GLO)- Perhaps everyone has a memory to love, to remember, to return to whenever tired in the hustle and bustle of life. For me, that memory lies along the An Lao River, flowing through Hoi Long village - a small village in Hoai An district, Binh Dinh province.

The An Lao River is not wide, nor deep, but for us children at that time, it was a vast world . In my heart, that place holds my simple, innocent childhood filled with sweet memories.

An Lao River. Photo: internet

My childhood began with clear mornings by the small river. No one taught me to love the river, but that love grew naturally in my heart, like rice plants growing green thanks to water, like the sound of children laughing and talking happily, carefree with loved ones.

The An Lao River originates from the mountainous region of the Northwest of An Lao District. The upstream of the river are two rivers, Nuoc Dinh and Nuoc Rap, flowing north. After leaving An Dung Commune (An Lao District), it turns west and continues to flow downstream. The river flows through my hometown, winding like a silk strip, quiet throughout the four seasons.

Every early morning, the river surface is covered with a thin layer of mist, reflecting the brilliant dawn. Birds chirp from the bamboo groves on both sides of the river. The gentle sound of oars, the calls of fishermen casting nets create a very peaceful sound of the countryside. The river nourishes the green vegetable beds on both sides of the river; the river provides fish, shrimp, and cool water to irrigate the fields; the river nourishes the dreams of the children in my hometown...

I still remember vividly the hot summer afternoons when the village children gathered on the riverbank. Under the shady old bamboo trees, we took off our shirts and ran across the bridge, calling out to each other and laughing loudly.

From the bamboo bridge, we jumped into the cool water, some diving, some swimming, some catching fish with our hands. After playing and diving to our heart's content, we lay down on the soft white sand at the foot of the bridge, telling each other our naive, childish dreams that were appropriate for our age.

The sandbank along the river was also where we, the buffalo herders, played soccer every afternoon. Splitting into two groups, we were engrossed in chasing the worn-out leather ball. Back then, in the neighborhood, the child whose parents bought a leather ball was considered the richest and happiest. Most of us chose large grapefruits, dried them until they withered, to make soccer balls. Even though kicking the ball with grapefruit made a thumping sound and hurt our feet, it was an endless joy for us.

Not only is it a place for children to play, the An Lao River is also a place associated with many familiar images of adults. The river is the livelihood of many fishing families; it is a source of cool water for my father and other people to wash their faces, hands and feet after muddy days in the fields...

During flood season, the water rises and covers the long sandy beach. The river seems to take on a different form: fierce and surging. But even then, in our children’s eyes, the river still has something very familiar, like a friend who grew up with us, sometimes angry but never leaving.

Time flows silently like the flow of that river. I grew up, left my hometown to study, and pursued dreams painted with the colors of the city. But the farther I went, the more I deeply missed my hometown, the river of my childhood. Whenever I felt unsettled, I closed my eyes and imagined myself standing by the old wharf, watching the waves rippling on the water, listening to the wind rustling through the bamboo groves, and seeing my small shadow running along the white sand.

Every time I return, I quietly walk along the old riverbank, lost in nameless memories. I sit on the white sandbank, scoop up a handful of smooth sand and let it flow gently through my fingers, like my childhood passing by, unable to be held back. However, no matter how much time takes away, that river and the memories by the river will always be the purest things I have ever had. And perhaps, until the end of my life, I will still carry that river with me like carrying an unforgettable childhood.

Source: https://baogialai.com.vn/dong-song-tuoi-tho-post329737.html