Chestnut blossom scent

March brings delicate sunshine. Hurrying home after school, a scent, both strange and familiar, wafts through the air. A wave of emotion washes over me as I search for memories. That scent, that color of flowers, those peaceful afternoons—all have faded with time, but in a deep corner of my soul, they remain. The scent of chestnut blossoms—the scent of childhood! A fragrance emanating from those simple green and yellow petals, yet possessing the power to captivate so many.

Chestnut blossom fragrance

Illustration: LNDUY

Encountering the scent of chestnut blossoms amidst the hustle and bustle of the city, my eyes suddenly well up with tears. My school days quietly drifted by on the slopes covered with endless hills of purple rhododendrons. My adolescence was simply a time to charm with the scent of chestnut blossoms each March. Many compare chestnut blossoms to a sweet fruit.

Initially vibrant green, absorbing the sun, rain, and the hardships of the years, the delicate petals transform into a vast, sun-kissed hue.

After enduring countless silent waits, the flowers transform into a deep, velvety yellow. Amidst the vast expanse of mountain fragrance, those clusters of tender green and deep yellow stand there, bewildered and endearing, silently emitting an unmistakable scent.

I would pick a small chestnut blossom as soon as it bloomed, tuck it into a three-leaf hairpin hidden behind my thick hair, so that in the evening, the sweet fragrance would waft through the winding lane along the hillside. Sometimes I would keep a few dried chestnut blossoms in my pocket and press a few more in my school notebook right after picking them.

I grew up with the passing days. Leaving that peaceful countryside, I unknowingly became a young woman. Occasionally, when I sort through old memories, and come across those pressed chestnut flowers, I find myself reminiscing about stories from my childhood.

My mother spoke of that flower in a melancholic voice. The delicate chestnut blossom was a symbol of the pure love of a country girl for a prince. The harsh prejudices of social customs separated them. The girl, consumed by longing and regret, transformed into a wild flower with a strange, captivating fragrance that lingered in the minds of many at their parting.

Many seasons have quietly passed, but this afternoon, that simple scent has slowed our steps. The green and yellow hues hidden in the sunlight make our hearts flutter once more. Lost in thought by the sidewalk, we press our hands to our cheeks, letting memories return with the scent, letting our dreams be filled with the fragrance of chestnuts. And then, in that dream, we wistfully encounter the verses of old: “Golden like ripe fruit / Where do the chestnut clusters hang? / The wind carries a strange fragrance / The road to school is bustling...”

The struggle for survival keeps us busy every day. The rain and sun outside have forced us to pack everything away in a corner of our hearts, only daring to revisit it when night falls. Sometimes we sob, blaming ourselves for being so indifferent! Have we forgotten our childhood?

Have we forgotten the vast hillsides covered with purple rhododendrons and velvety yellow chestnut blossoms? Time has etched itself into our eyes, time has left its mark on every strand of hair that has turned gray. But thankfully, deep within our memories, the dusty red paths winding along the slopes remain intact, lined with chestnut trees bearing velvety yellow flowers with a unique, unmistakable fragrance. It's not easy to forget a flower that holds such a special place in our childhood memories.

The city streets today are also faintly scented with chestnut blossoms. Chestnut trees are grown in home gardens. The small clusters of flowers continue to release their fragrance. Those clusters of light green and dark yellow blossoms occasionally make those far from home feel bewildered amidst the bustling city. And this afternoon, one such person greedily inhaled the scent of childhood, letting their longing for home melt away.

As evening falls, life becomes incredibly gentle and peaceful. The scent of childhood once again transports us back to old memories, to the sweet dreams of innocent youth. Amidst the hustle and bustle of the city, we are wistfully reminded of the familiar sounds of a heartfelt, expansive symphony.

Thien Lam

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