The sky of my maternal grandparents' hometown

My peaceful haven is the childhood days spent in my maternal grandparents' village. There, I found rice paddies heavy with ripe grains under the setting sun, the melodious sound of kites soaring in the sky, and plump buffaloes lying peacefully beside the bamboo groves. My childhood was filled with running and playing across the countryside, chasing grasshoppers and crickets, sweating profusely but never forgetting to breathe in the scent of freshly harvested rice.

I remember the days I'd run after you to pull in your fishing net, covered in mud, but still excitedly waiting to see your "catch" each time you lifted the net. There were fish, shrimp, big and small, jumping around in the net. And every evening, you'd treat me to a lavish meal.

Illustration photo: baolongan.vn

My childhood memories also include peaceful days spent with my grandmother, and simple meals that are so deeply etched in my mind that even as an adult, I can never forget the sweet, refreshing taste of those meals.

My grandmother was very skillful; she always made sure we had a complete meal. When I was sent back to my grandmother's house in the countryside, the meals of my childhood didn't have as many dishes as they do now. It was just a bowl of plain soup, a few shrimp, some dried fish, or a few pieces of tofu, but thanks to my grandmother's hands, that flavor has stayed with me until my hair has turned gray.

I often reminisce about my time with my grandmother. Meals with her on the mat on the porch, she would always put food on my plate, constantly saying, "Eat, my child!" She knew I was far from home and my parents, so she probably spoiled me more than my cousins. Even with a sweet potato or a cassava root, she would always save a portion for me first.

Later, after going to university, my sister and I still often cycled back to our hometown. Sometimes our aunt would give us a few potatoes, other times our uncle would give us some fish or a few kilograms of rice. That helped us overcome so many difficulties and hardships, and it nurtured the memories of my maternal grandparents' village within me.

The gentle, sweet scent of the countryside makes people yearn to return, even amidst the hustle and bustle of life. There, they find a peaceful haven with lush green rice paddies that, when in bloom, paint the entire landscape a golden hue.

The evening mist rising from the rice paddies in my hometown becomes the scent of home in my mind. Even after so many years away, every time I see those vast fields, that scent of home returns, weaving its way through the "nooks and crannies" of my memory. I suddenly realize that the years of my childhood are a peaceful resting place for each of us...

According to the People's Army Newspaper

Source: https://baolaocai.vn/khoang-troi-que-ngoai-post385681.html