Keep the homeland

My mother still hesitated, half wanting to listen to me, half attached to this land. Because this land had engraved in her heart unforgettable memories. The rainy and sunny seasons, the rivers and canals flowing red from the cajuput forest. The early mornings with the chirping of birds echoing in the forest, the afternoons with smoke from the coal mines rising up to cover the small hamlets by the forest, and every night with the sound of oars splashing water on the canals flowing into the big river... All of them had become our souls, our flesh and blood, so my mother could not bear to leave even though the streets were filled with joy and anticipation. My mother stepped out into the yard to check the coal mines that were billowing white smoke.

Chinese illustration.

- The wind is strong, if you don't look carefully, a hole in the coal mine will burn down. - My mother said as she walked, leaving me stunned with the suggestion I had made countless times: "Let's go to the city to live, Mom!".

I didn't respond, just cleared my throat, enough to let her know I had responded.

The coal mine still quietly emitted smoke. The hamlets near the forest mainly made a living by coal mining or collecting honey or digging in the river to catch shrimp and fish. Life was simple but filled with joy, above all because people got to live in the place where they were born and raised, attaching their souls to this land and river that they missed so much. In the quiet night, my hamlet could only hear the rustling of the cajuput forest, the crackling of the coal mine and the melodious sounds of the forest hamlet children reading their lessons, just entering first grade.

I followed my mother to the charcoal pit. The banana trees next to the pit were still green, with bunches of bananas, about to ripen. My mother bent down to fill in the holes. If the charcoal pit was not airtight, the wind would get in and the wood would burn out. The smoke made my mother cough and choke, and then tears streamed down her face. I looked at my mother, feeling heartbroken. During the days I was not here, my mother would surely be lonely in the house that had long been without my father. She would be alone from morning till night. My mother's life was full of hardships and difficulties. One time I felt sorry for her, and couldn't bear it and said to her:

- Mom! I can't quit my job and come here to live with you, and you can't live here alone forever. I can't rest assured! Come back to the city and live with me, Mom. The houses are big and spacious, and we can be together...

My mother thought for a long time. I saw her looking up at my father's altar, then looking out at the small canal in front of the house, the shaky bridge. Her eyes were the color of white smoke. Suddenly, I saw my mother gently dab a handkerchief at the corner of her eyes. I held her hand, tears welling up:

- Mom! If I said anything wrong, please don't be angry. I just want to live by your side, so you can be at peace for the rest of your life.

My mother interrupted me:

- No, I'm not angry with you. You're right, it's just that I still miss this place, I can't leave my hometown yet.

Night covered the countryside, the later the night, the stronger the wind blew. The scent of cajuput flowers from the forest drifted in with the wind, so fragrant. I sat next to my mother, suddenly feeling time go back to when I was a child, I also sat next to my mother like this, under the dim light of the oil lamp, my mother patched my father's shirt while teaching me to spell each letter...

The two words “leaving the countryside” from my mother made my heart ache. I had “left the countryside” since the first days I went to the city to study, and then the days I returned home could be counted on my fingers. My house, my countryside, where I lived throughout my childhood, had now become a boarding house, a foreign land, even though in my heart I still longed for this place. I understood that, in a short moment, my mother could not nod to follow me to the city. The city was familiar to me but strange to her. That place did not have the faint smell of charcoal smoke every morning and every afternoon, did not have the rustling sound of cajuput leaves every time the wind blew, and did not have the patch of land covered with wild grass, but it had kept for us so many beautiful memories.

For my mother, the homeland is flesh and blood, is the soul, is a beautiful paradise. From the day my mother wandered to this land until now, it has been half of her life. Half of her life she has lived, attached, loved, gave birth to me and then placed her heart in this place. My mother loves the river passionately, loves the cajuput forest where my father used to row a boat into to hang a beehive and then return with a beehive full of honey, loves the smell of smoke coming from the coal pit and then spreading out to the river, giving this countryside a unique feature that my mother will never forget in her life. During those days, my mother had to work very hard. Yet she still felt satisfied and did not expect anything far-fetched or illusory. My mother was still loyal to the land, to the forest, to the river and to my father.

Looking around, seeing that the coal bunker was closed, my mother entered the house. I followed her. The flickering lamp cast a narrow halo of light into the yard. I felt my body caressing, strangely warm. As always, when I got home, I felt completely at peace. Several times I planned to build a new house for my mother, but she stopped me. "The old house is precious! It has many memories" - my mother said. I listened to her, partly because I also planned to bring her to the city to live in the near future, so I gave up the idea of ​​building a house in the countryside. The house was old but warm, everything was carefully preserved by my mother, for decades it had not been moved or changed. From the city to the countryside was nearly two hundred kilometers, but whenever I could, I drove back, and when I was tired, I took the bus. Leaving my mother alone in the countryside made me feel uneasy.

Night covered the countryside, the later the wind blew stronger. The scent of cajuput flowers from the forest drifted in with the wind, so fragrant. I sat next to my mother, suddenly feeling time go back to when I was a child, I also sat next to my mother like this, under the dim light of the oil lamp, my mother patched my father's shirt while teaching me how to spell each word... Those days were so far away, but so beautiful and peaceful! I wished I could go back to those days so that my mother's hair would still be jet black and I wouldn't have to struggle in the whirlpool of fame and fortune, leaving my mother and my flesh and blood homeland.

In the sound of water flowing in the small canal, at night when the water was high, my mother looked at me, her eyes were a deep sky. She softly said:

- I know you are grown up now, your life is full, so you want to make up for all the hardships I went through when I was young, but my child, to me this place is everything. You can have your own house, your own family, and I only have beautiful memories associated with this countryside. I can't leave you, my child...

I looked at my mother thoughtfully, then my eyes filled with tears without me knowing. Old people often cherish past memories, they live for memories, cling to a certain place just because that place holds unforgettable memories. My mother is living for that, and so am I. I burst into tears like a child:

- Mom! I'm sorry mom...

Mom stroked my head, then pulled me close to her. The smell of charcoal smoke clung to her clothes and hair. My mom said affectionately:

- Mom always wants her children to have a place to return to. Mom will always be here, keeping the warmth of the house, keeping the incense burning on dad's altar and keeping her children's roots that she will definitely not forget.

I understand my mother's heart. Her heart is tolerant. Origin is something that no matter where you go, you must never forget, never let yourself be uprooted.

I sat next to my mother. The night was quiet. The village was immersed in a quiet sleep, only the sound of nocturnal forest birds and the crackling of embers flying in the wind could be heard. In that simple yet warm moment, I felt somewhere the echo of the land, of the rivers of my hometown, of the vast cajuput forests and the echo of my mother's kind and generous heart. Someday, on the seemingly endless journey of life, I will be like my mother again, will cherish each beautiful memory and keep it for myself.

I leaned on my cheek, as if leaning on the river, on the homeland, on the cajuput shade, on the sacred, precious source!.

Short story by Hoang Khanh Duy

Source: https://baobacgiang.vn/giu-lai-manh-troi-que-postid417667.bbg