A corner of purple sky in March

This morning I went to work in the gentle spring rain. The familiar road seemed veiled in a thin layer of mist. Suddenly, a faint fragrance wafted on the breeze. The scent wasn't hurried or sharp; it gently touched my sense of smell, then quietly spread, awakening within me a distant memory I thought had long been dormant.

I suddenly looked around. Then, in the distance, a corner of the sky burst into purple. Clusters of flowers swayed in the wind, their tiny petals like purple dust falling into the clear March air.

Apricot blossoms in March. Photo: nld.com.vn

The crape myrtle blossoms! The crape myrtle blossoms aren't dazzling enough to make people gasp in admiration. They're just a pale purple, a whisper-like purple. But it's precisely this delicate purple hue that calms the heart. Beneath the crape myrtle's canopy, the ground is dotted with fallen petals, thin as paper, cool to the touch and soft as a thread of memory.

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When I was little, I often walked along that tree-lined road. The flowers would fall all over my hair and shoulders, but I never bothered to brush them off. I just felt a strange, indescribable feeling in my heart. Perhaps it was the feeling of growing up amidst a season of flowers.

The blooming of the apricot blossoms signals the true arrival of March. March isn't as boisterous as early spring, nor as fiery as summer. It sits in the middle of the season, carrying with it the last vestiges of coolness and the first hints of warm sunshine. In this transitional space, the apricot blossoms bloom like a gentle breath of nature.

The spring rain still falls like silk threads. The clusters of flowers gently sway, their tiny petals falling onto the road. I suddenly realized that some things in life are like the apricot blossoms—not ostentatious, not noisy, but once they have passed through a person's heart, they leave a long-lasting, deep fragrance.

With just a gentle breeze carrying the scent of apricot blossoms, I know I will find my way back to the old path, to rediscover a part of my youth still vibrant in my heart.

Beneath those rows of crape myrtle trees, our childhood unfolded day by day. We played children's games under the midday sun: hastily drawn "O An Quan" (a traditional Vietnamese board game) on the ground, glittering marbles in our pockets, the crisp "click" echoing across the courtyard filled with fallen blossoms. Some afternoons we lay stretched out under the crape myrtle trees, listening to the rustling wind, petals falling onto our cheeks and hands. Back then, no one thought of it as a memory. The crape myrtle blossoms still bloom, their fragrance as gentle as ever. Only we are no longer the children we once were. Childhood closes like a soft door, but every March, with just a fleeting scent, that door opens again, allowing me to see my past self—barefoot, with disheveled hair, laughing loudly under a sky of purple blossoms.

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I drove slowly to get to work on time. The wheels rolled, but my heart lingered behind. Looking back, I still imagined those flowers gently waving goodbye to an old friend returning after a long time. It turns out that some seasons of flowers don't just bloom on branches. They bloom in the heart, blooming throughout a lifetime.

Source: https://www.qdnd.vn/van-hoa/doi-song/goc-troi-tim-thang-ba-1032293