In the middle of the street, suddenly there was someone who looked like my father.

This morning, I walked around the market about a kilometer from my school. I had not gone half a kilometer when my shirt was soaked with sweat because of the hot and humid air of the big city since early morning. I suddenly missed the cool breezes from the sugarcane fields in my hometown.

Since I went to the city to study at university, it has been almost two months since I stepped out of the school and dormitory area. Usually, I just step out of the gate, walk a few meters and there is a student restaurant, there are many street vendors, and there are also a few vegetarian restaurants. All around, the prices are cheap and filling. But this morning, I suddenly wanted to go to the market to see if I could find a way to eat more economically. I woke up at 5am, waiting for the dormitory gate to open at 5:30am. I walked in the quiet dormitory yard, feeling light-hearted as if I was no longer confined in a strange place.

After a while, the street became more crowded, and my steps became more urgent. As I walked quickly, I suddenly remembered the old days, when every few days my mother would invite me to go to the market. I also calculated how many days until the exam, after the exam I would be able to go home to my parents.

When I got there, the market here was very different from the one my mother used to take me to. The sellers and buyers came from many regions, and I saw many products for the first time. As a new student, I decided to just go to experience the atmosphere of the city market and find cheap food. I walked around the market, and suddenly the smell of vermicelli soup wafted straight into my mind.

I hesitated in front of the vermicelli soup stall at the corner of the market. I remembered the day my mother sent me off to the city, she cooked a pot full of vermicelli soup with crab. I remembered my father spending the whole rainy afternoon in the field catching each firm crab. The smell of vermicelli soup made me suddenly want to waste money. Seeing the stall's price tag of twenty to thirty thousand dong per bowl, I felt sorry for the money and turned away.

After only a few steps, my eyes were drawn to the figure behind the noodle stall. A small, thin man with gray hair, wearing a plaid shirt with faded and frayed threads.

That shirt was exactly like the shirt my father wore when he went to the fields. The color was the same, the buttoning was the same, even the shoulder had a long frayed line. He looked a lot like my father. My father's shoulder was crooked to one side from carrying sugarcane, my uncle's shoulder was crooked too, probably from selling noodles on the street. The only difference was that my father's hands were rougher from hoeing the land for more than half his life. His feet were also not in good condition because he went barefoot more than wearing sandals, the soles of his feet were calloused, black and hard, each toe was cracked and rough. There were some bloody marks on his heels. I remember the rainy months, every time he came home from the sugarcane fields, he insisted on sleeping in the back house, even though my mother and I begged him to go to the front house. He was afraid that his feet, soaked in water all day, would smell and affect his wife and children's sleep.

In the middle of the city, in the sweltering heat, the smell of cars and smoke that made the eyes of passersby sting, I stood there, stunned, looking at the noodle vendor. My hand unconsciously searched my pocket for the fifty thousand dong I had saved and hadn’t dared to spend. I looked at him, missing my father so much my heart ached, and walked towards the noodle stall.

He bent down to take some noodles and blanch them in the boiling pot of water. His posture was hunched, his veiny hands restless. I couldn’t hold back any longer and said:

- Uncle! Give me a bowl of noodles for 20 thousand.

He was reaching for some vegetables, then looked at me. He smiled, a gentle smile, and said loudly:

- Okay, pull up a chair and find a cool place to sit. Wait a moment, I'll do it right away.

I sat watching him sell noodles and talking to people. He was close to the students who lived nearby and came to his place to eat noodles. Whenever he saw someone who was small, he would add a piece of crab soup or a few pieces of tofu and joke: "Give me an extra piece, eat so I can grow up quickly." He brought the bowl of crab noodle soup to me, the steam was billowing, the aroma was so fragrant. I thanked him, then bowed my head, picked up my chopsticks, and ate slowly. Each warm noodle, each spoonful of crab soup made my eyes sting. Every time I looked up, I saw him carefully handing out bowls of noodles to customers, and when he had free time, he cleaned up the bowls and dishes. He looked very much like my father, calm and warm. I looked at him, my eyes red. It was the first time I was away from home, I hadn't been home for several months, suddenly seeing a back that looked a lot like my father, it was truly an indescribable feeling of longing.

I finished eating and walked over to pay. He started a conversation:

- Is it good?

- Yes, it's delicious! - I said, smiling, tears welling up in my eyes.

- If it's delicious, come back and eat again, son! Are you a new student?

Yes, I just came here a few months ago.

He smiled and said softly:

- I'll give you five thousand to get to know me. Shh, don't tell anyone - He gave me the change and tried to make me happy.

- No, uncle, you work very hard. Reducing like that is not profitable...

- New students who are good will be given less!

After that, he told me to try to study hard, then he hurriedly made new bowls of noodles for the customers.

My heart skipped a beat, in the middle of the city. I bowed my head and said goodbye to my uncle before leaving. On the way, I called my father twice, but no one answered. I returned to the dormitory, looking at my phone. I rarely called my father, I usually called my mother on Zalo, and then I would talk to my father...

It was noon when my father called me back.

- You called me? What's up? - Dad's voice was a bit urgent.

- No, it's nothing, I just called because I wanted to hear your voice. You just got home from the field, right?

- Yes, I have just finished cutting half of the sugarcane leaves.

I chatted with my father for nearly half an hour. It was the longest call I had ever had with him alone. After hanging up the phone, I still missed my parents and my hometown very much. I told myself to keep trying, because no matter how far away, my parents would always be there waiting for my phone calls and waiting for me to come back...

Source: https://baocantho.com.vn/giua-pho-chot-co-nguoi-giong-cha-a193331.html