[E-Magazine]: Leaning on January

January is always like that, full of emotion, with children leaving home, carrying the scent of their homeland in their suitcases for a new journey, waiting for the day they return next year.

January drifts by slowly, gently harmonizing the past with the new freshness that is about to arrive.

January arrives gently, swaying in the lingering chill of the air and the faint warmth of spring. The soft crowing of roosters heralds a new day. I stir, pull up my collar, and stroll around the yard. Somewhere, the clatter of a bicycle breaks the silence. Just after Tet (Lunar New Year), the rhythm of life remains slow and leisurely. A few people go to the market to sell their goods, gathering at small makeshift stalls selling fresh vegetables, fruits, and produce from their gardens. Many larger markets are still resting, waiting for the long days ahead. Many people still linger in the afterglow of Tet and its festivities, and the earth and sky harmonize in a little more "laziness" before truly awakening for a new season. Perhaps that is why each January morning retains such a gentle resonance?

In January, tender green shoots sprout on the branches. The earth and sky harmonize in a gentle dance, like a shy girl playfully showing off her beauty. A light drizzle falls like a thin, hazy fence, like the delicate veil of a new bride, indistinct yet incredibly alluring. Spring rain – the characteristic melody of January. Heaven seems to indulge its beloved daughter, not unleashing a torrent like summer rain, but allowing the gentle girl to sprinkle delicate water upon the world. The vegetables in the garden sown before Tet now lift their heads to drink the pleasant drizzle. Tender green and red shoots emerge from the dry, hard branches, bursting forth with new life. The gentle spring rain sows a feeling of longing and enchantment in people's hearts. The trees are like an artistic mosaic of striking dry branches. Amidst the seemingly lifeless decay, the green shoots open, bursting forth as if to say: After dryness comes vibrant life. After the harsh winter comes spring with blooming flowers. After suffering comes happiness.

I've always been captivated, mesmerized by the image of the banyan tree, which I thought had withered and shed its leaves since winter, now standing there amidst moss, displaying its sculpted beauty in stillness. Its trunk is shrouded in a deep, dark cloak, its branches gracefully shaping a form that stirs the heart and evokes a sense of longing. I often stop to gaze at it, mesmerized, and take pictures of the tree silhouetted against the blue sky. The picture seems still yet dynamic, seemingly silent yet revealing the movement of life's currents. New shoots sprout, green buds emerge, red leaves unfurl. Amidst the bare, withered branches, life stirs subtly and gently. January always knows how to bring freshness to every small aspect of life.

In January, people leave their hometowns for the city. They leave, but their hearts linger, preserving the vivid memories of the days leading up to Tet (Lunar New Year) in the warm embrace of family. As the car starts moving, their gazes still linger. In the image of their mother, frail and receding in the distance through the car window, waving endlessly. In their father, pensive and silent, only his eyes following her until she disappears around the corner. Their luggage remains the same, overflowing with love. The children leave carrying with them all their care and worries. The faint scent of incense, the rich aroma of kitchen smoke, the scent of home fills the suitcase, following their footsteps as if by magic.

January is always like that, full of emotions as children leave for new journeys, waiting for the day they will return the following year.

Content: Hue Huong

Photo: Internet source

Graphics: Mai Huyen

Source: https://baothanhhoa.vn/e-magazine-nghieng-vai-thang-gieng-280365.htm