[E-magazin]: Sunny roads

Each drop of pure sunlight has returned, enough to warm the trees waiting for the day of changing leaves, enough for me to realize the beauty of life in every person's eyes and lips.

After the long period of heavy rain and floods, today I finally have the chance to leisurely walk on the sunny roads. The sunlight is gentle like the warmth of a fire in early winter, the sunlight makes my cheeks rosy, the sunlight makes me stop for a moment as if meeting a close friend I haven't seen for a long time...

Following the sunlight, I ran along the riverside path that curved softly like a silk ribbon. The early winter wind blew my hair, my chest opened wide, inhaling the scent of leaves and trees, the scent of mud from the open space opening before my eyes. In the chilly cold, all life was starting with a new, early breath, stirring in the rhythm of the thirst for vitality of the universe. There were shrimp ponds, fish ponds, mangrove fields, and mangrove trees that patiently rooted their roots all their lives to fight against natural disasters, diligently depositing alluvium and sediment.

Following the sunlight, I continued to walk towards the far sea - where there were countless sparkling waves as if covered with colorful glitter threads. Before my eyes were silver sails filled with wind, hurriedly guiding the boat back to rest on the sandy shore in the moment of dawn. On that boat were women and men with dark brown skin, their faces marked by the hardship of making a living. They calmly untangled the nets and picked up each fish. They calmly turned towards the rising sun, waiting for thousands of warm, carefree golden threads. Opposite the river, as green as the eyes of a twenty-year-old girl, was a village with a few red-tiled houses, the clear laughter of children on their way to school, the calls of sisters and mothers who were draining water on the fields stretching out in the sunlight.

I stopped, stood on the dike, admiring the reddish-brown alluvial shore, admiring the most splendid moment of a day rising from the eastern horizon. There was a giant invisible arm lifting the sky up high. Offering the river surface a crystal-clear blue color, seemingly endless in the magical interplay of nature. Above my head, migratory birds were still hesitant and reluctant to leave the sunny sky. They poured into the silence clusters of clear sounds as if extracted from the symphony of nature. The sounds echoed endlessly and then lingered in the soul of the person absorbed. Never before had I felt my soul as free as at this moment. I wanted to open my heart to receive all the small loves, the ordinary, the rough. It is the yellowing weeds underfoot, the musty smell of water-soaked tree trunks, the strong fishy smell of wet nets, or the small figures of fishing village children following their mothers to the wharf. Everything is so close and familiar, so lovely and endearing, full of potential strength in the revival.

I never thought this place would ever go through a nightmare with long days of desolation, everything sinking into a painful silence. But the law of the cycle of life has always been the same, after the rain comes the sun. Each drop of pure sunshine has returned, enough to warm the trees waiting for the day to change leaves, enough for me to realize the beauty of life in every person's eyes and lips. The roads I walked on were gradually filled with flowers, chirping to rise a new day with the love that already exists. The sunshine is always around here, never ceasing with the joy of giving life warm and peaceful moments.

I miss the old roads again. The sunny roads along the mountains and rivers, the roads that reflect the thin figure of my mother, the bent back of my grandfather, the hard-working women of the countryside all year round. The roads after the storm withered trees and grass, swaying reeds. The roads that take me back to the house filled with memories, behind the porch there is a bamboo screen that has been blown open and not yet tied up, emitting a dry, rumbling sound. The garden and the wild fields are flooded. The sky is dark, moldy and mossy... But when dawn begins to shine behind the blue mountain with thousands of shimmering golden rays of sunlight, the sound of the swallows, the sound of chickens in the coop, the chirping of wild animals with clear eyes running across the road as if playing hide-and-seek... breaks out, making a stir in the small village. My mother hurried out and back with several baskets of cassava that are about to turn moldy. Just wait for the sun to rise to dry, when the sun shines, the scent of sliced ​​cassava fills the windy yard. The sun makes everything want to dance, playing a joyful song of a peaceful and simple life.

During my journey, I have longed for that feeling of peace and tranquility and always regretted the thought of never being able to see it again. But wherever I was, on any road near or far, the sun showed me, gave me the news that a rebirth was coming.

Content: Vo Thi Thu Huong

Graphics: Mai Huyen

Source: https://baothanhhoa.vn/e-magazin-nhung-nga-duong-co-nang-269422.htm