The River of Childhood

(GLO) - Perhaps everyone has a place of memories to cherish, to remember, a place they long to return to whenever they feel weary amidst the hustle and bustle of life. For me, that place of memories lies along the An Lão River, the section flowing through Hội Long village - a small village in Hoài Ân district, Bình Định province.

The An Lão River wasn't wide or deep, but for us children back then, it was a vast world . In my heart, it held my simple, innocent childhood, filled with sweet memories.

An Lão 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 thriving thanks to water, like the joyful, carefree laughter of children with their loved ones.

The An Lão River originates in the mountainous northwestern region of An Lão district. Its headwaters consist of two tributaries, Nước Đinh and Nước Ráp, flowing north. After leaving An Dũng commune (An Lão district), it turns westward and continues flowing downstream. The river meanders through my hometown like a silk ribbon, flowing silently throughout all four seasons.

Every early morning, the river's surface is covered with a thin layer of mist, reflecting the brilliant sunrise. Birds sing from the bamboo groves on both banks. The gentle sound of oars splashing, the calls of fishermen casting their nets, create the peaceful sounds of the countryside. The river nourishes the green vegetable gardens along its banks; it provides fish, shrimp, and cool, refreshing water to irrigate the fields; and it nurtures the dreams of the children in my village...

I still vividly remember those scorching summer afternoons when the village children would gather by the riverbank. Under the shade of old bamboo trees, we would strip off our shirts, run noisily across the stilt bridge spanning the river, calling out to each other and laughing loudly.

From the bamboo bridge, we all jumped into the cool water, some diving, some swimming, and some trying to catch fish with our bare hands. After playing and diving to our heart's content, we lay stretched out on the soft white sand at the foot of the bridge, sharing our innocent, childlike dreams.

The sandy riverbank was also where we buffalo-herding children played football every afternoon. We'd split into two teams, eagerly chasing after our worn-out leather ball. Back then, in our village, any child whose parents bought them a leather ball was considered the richest and happiest. Most of us, however, would choose large grapefruit, dry them until they wilted, to use as balls. Even though playing with grapefruit balls made a thudding sound and hurt our feet, for us, it was an immeasurable joy.

Beyond children's games, the An Lão River is also associated with countless cherished memories for adults. The river is the livelihood of many fishing families; it's the source of cool water for my father and other villagers to wash their faces and hands after muddy days in the fields…

During the flood season, the water rises and submerges the long stretch of sand. The river takes on a different form: fierce and turbulent. Yet, even then, in the eyes of us children, the river still felt very familiar, like a friend who grew up with us, sometimes angry but never leaving our side.

Time flowed silently, just like the river itself. I grew up, left my hometown to study, and pursued dreams painted with the colors of the city. But the further I went, the more I felt the longing for home, for the river of my childhood. Whenever I felt a pang of sadness, I would close my eyes and imagine myself standing by the old riverbank, watching the ripples on the water's surface, listening to the wind rustling through the bamboo grove, and seeing my small figure running along the white sandy shore.

Each time I return, I quietly walk along the old riverbank, lost in nameless memories. I sit by the white sand, scoop up a handful of fine sand, and let it gently slip through my fingers, like childhood slipping away, impossible to hold onto. Yet, no matter how much time sweeps away, that river and the memories by its banks will forever remain the purest things I've ever had. And perhaps, until the end of my life, I will carry that river with me, as I carry an unforgettable childhood.

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