Mom's garden

(BGĐT) - My mother put the pot of braised fish on the wood-fired stove, bending over to blow on the fire while coughing. Although we've had a gas stove for a long time, my mother still cooks with a wood-fired stove every day. She says that food cooked on a gas stove doesn't taste good; the smell of rice husk ash mixed with the smell of charcoal is what makes it delicious to her.

What Mom said might be true, but she might also be tiếcful about the straw and firewood in the garden. The problem is, the place where Mom sets up her wood-burning stove is the kitchen in the sturdy three-story French-style villa that my older brother and sister-in-law just finished building last month. My older brother's wife, Hậu, doesn't dare say anything to Mom's face, but whenever Mom goes out to sweep leaves in the garden, Hậu starts nagging and criticizing my older brother.

"If I had known, I would have had the workers pour concrete for the backyard to keep it clean, free of trees, straw, and firewood. Who would have thought that in a villa, every time friends came over, they'd see a wood-burning stove right next to the gas stove? They'd say I'm half-baked!"

Illustration: Sage.

My older brother didn't dare argue, choosing his words carefully:

- Oh come on, honey, Mom's going to stay at Uncle Ba's house next month!

- Oh come on, each of us takes turns caring for Mom for a month, it's not like she's staying there permanently. Are you trying to lull me into a false sense of security? I don't want to be seen as a daughter-in-law or mother-in-law. Do whatever you want, but next month I don't want to see the smoke from the wood burning in our kitchen anymore.

Ms. Hau cheerfully wheeled her motorbike out, leaving Mr. Hai standing there with a distorted expression on his face like a scarecrow. To be clear, Ms. Hau hadn't done any cooking lately; she was a civil servant with a high position, she had a car to pick her up in the morning, and Mr. Hai had prepared a full meal for her in the evening—she just had to eat.

Before building the house, Mom asked us to leave her the backyard so she could freely tend to her vegetables and chickens. She's old now, and after so many years living in a bamboo house, the smell of lime and mortar still makes her feel cold and her mouth sour. My older brother, without any sense of pride, wanted to leave it to make Mom happy. But the problem is, my sister Hậu is afraid to tell people that an educated, high-ranking person like us has a house that lacks style and modernity.

She said to cut down all the trees to get rid of the obstruction. My older brother didn't dare argue. My mother was sad for several days. When they were building the fence, she went out and stopped the workers, telling them to leave the garden so she could come and go, not to chop down all the trees that had been there for years, not to concrete everything so that even a chicken could scratch and break its claws. She stood with her arms outstretched, like in the old days when she stopped invaders from destroying the village. My older brother was so scared that he ran out and told the group of workers, "Okay, okay, just build the fence, but leave the garden." My sister-in-law, Hậu, looked down from upstairs, her face darkening, but she restrained herself from saying anything. All she could do was nag my older brother every night.

Mom stayed at Uncle Ba's house for exactly one day. Early the next morning, before the roosters even crowed, Aunt Hau dragged Uncle Hai out of bed onto the balcony to look out at the garden, speaking in a firm voice.

"Listen, by the way, Mom's visiting Uncle Ba and won't be back for another month. Call a contractor to pour concrete for the backyard for me. A civil servant's house has to be modern and clean to set an example for the people. Later, if Mom asks, just say it's because of the new rural development movement that they don't allow overgrown trees in the garden. And since it's already done, I'm sure Mom won't make you remove the concrete and replant bananas or bamboo."

Brother Hai still looked sleepy. Although he hadn't wanted to pave the entire yard with concrete for a long time, he was afraid his wife, who was famous in the area, would be known to everyone. He had received a good education from his mother and had even earned a decent salary. But since his wife got a high-ranking position, no one had seen him work anymore. Every day he stayed home, cooking, cleaning, and taking the two children to and from school. Several times during ancestral commemoration ceremonies, his mother and siblings had urged him to go back to work, saying that no man should be so unconventional. Brother Hai looked at his wife, Hậu, who gestured towards the yard as if searching for something. He spoke, frowning as if explaining that he wanted to take care of the children a little longer until they were "older" before going back to work.

They're only in high school, still so young and naive! But even after both children graduated and went to study abroad, my older brother still didn't go back to work. When someone mentioned it, he'd just mumble, "I'm getting old now, where would I find a job?" He'd just stay home, be a househusband, and serve the family—that's legitimate work, after all. Whenever that topic came up, he'd turn away. My mother and siblings kept urging him to go back to work, saying, "No man wants to be seen as a burden." But my brother's heart felt like it was weighed down by lead, heavy and gloomy!

After Hậu's words, Hai mumbled something, then picked up the phone to call a handyman. Seeing this, Hậu felt relieved and went inside to change into a brand-new, pristine white dress. She said she would be away on a business trip for over a week. She wanted the garden's stone paving to have a pure white pattern, matching the color of her dress, when she returned. She also wanted him to have a stone table and chairs installed, with a statue of Venus holding a water jug ​​or a set of European-style brass lamps to light up the garden every night.

In the corner of the garden, she planned a koi pond with a Japanese-style rock garden. This would be the place to entertain guests or host parties with barbecues, champagne, etc. It had to suit the style of the guests—officials, businesspeople, or at least reflect the modernity of a contemporary civil servant. She felt that all of this was befitting her status. She didn't look down on her husband; she would still introduce herself as the one who came up with all the ideas, but to achieve this perfect result, her husband had put in a lot of effort.

She would still acknowledge his contributions to everyone, acknowledging that it was thanks to his support that she had two well-behaved, academically successful children, and a mother-in-law who was always healthy and happy. What era are we living in? She wanted everyone to see the modernity and flexibility in the role of women today. She was the head of this family, and she had the right that men had long taken for granted: "Behind every successful woman, there is a man—there's no need to be ashamed." Her white dress swayed as her slender legs stepped into the car. The door slammed shut. The business trip of this modern woman sped away, leaving a long, sharp black tire track on the pristine white concrete.

***

My mother, her mouth stained red from chewing betel nut, gazed towards the banana grove where a mother hen led her chicks leisurely scratching the ground for worms. Her eyesight was failing, and her legs were weak. She went to the garden with a sense of familiarity. She knew that if she fell, the rows of vegetables and sweet potato plants would support her. It wasn't that she disliked cleanliness and tidiness. But she wanted her children and grandchildren to breathe the scent of their homeland, not the overwhelming smell of artificial materials. She chewed betel nut, lost in thought, then gently let the chickens near her feet, scattering a few corn and rice grains for them. She smiled, looking up at the bending bamboo stalks casting shadows that shielded her from the sun…

The screeching sound of a car brakes echoed in front of the house. Ms. Hau stepped out, her white dress still flowing as she left. She turned her head, smiling and waving to someone inside the car through the tinted windows. Then, she performed a discreet, alluring, European-style kiss. The young driver, bending down, handed her a pink suitcase. The modern woman returned from her business trip, her dress still swaying playfully in front of the gate.

She rang the doorbell, but no one answered. How strange, her husband should be home by now. Never mind, she used her own key to open the door, her eyes, framed by long, curled false eyelashes, darting towards the garden, anticipating the changes she'd seen following her husband's instructions before he left. But… nothing had become more grand or glamorous as she'd imagined. In fact, everything seemed to have reverted to its true, rustic state, more like a country house than before.

She hurried to the backyard, almost tripping over a few clods of earth someone had just dug up to prepare for planting potatoes. She stopped midway when she saw her mother sitting on a bamboo bench, her hair neatly tied up, attentively watching the chickens. Further away, near the bamboo grove, her mother seemed to be boiling a pot of soapberry water using bamboo leaves swept from the garden. The strong scent of soapberry filled the small area.

Why did Mom come home before the end of the month? Where's the "modern" garden that she's been dreaming of? Where's her husband, Hai? How dare he disobey her? Everyone should remember that she's the one who single-handedly carries the burden of this family...?

Seeing her sister return, Mom smiled sweetly and gently:

- You're back, Hậu? Mom's boiled some soapberry water for you! Come here, let me wash your hair!

- Why did you come back, Mom? And where's my husband?

- Hai said he missed Mom so he came to pick her up and bring her back here! He's back to work! He applied for a technician position at the cooperative earlier this week. So, he's my subordinate, right? But these days, there's nothing wrong with a husband being inferior to his wife!

- Who told him to go to work? I've provided everything for this house; we don't lack anything.

...

- I told Dad he went to work! This house is gradually losing its family atmosphere and the taste of home if everything is covered in concrete, Mom!

The voice of Mrs. Hau's eldest son came from inside the house. He was the one she had painstakingly sent to study abroad, and she thought he would be very happy if this house were designed in a modern style. But perhaps things weren't as she had imagined and tried so hard to arrange.

"Not only Dad, but I'll be coming back here to work too, Mom! In developed countries, no one would tear down their own garden to try and imitate the gardens of other countries. 'Culture is what remains after everything else is lost,' Mom. Dad is a man, still the pillar of the family through all storms. If he tears down this garden, he'll be tearing down our family's culture and affection with his own hands. The phone call Dad made earlier this week after you wanted to pave this garden with concrete was actually for me! I understand what situation Dad is in, and I hope you understand him better too."

Ms. Hau froze, then lowered her gaze to her daughter, the hem of her white dress seemingly ceasing its swaying, looking out of place in this setting. She felt as if she had been neglecting something for a long time. One day, she too would have to relinquish her current position to someone else. There would be no more long business trips. No more luxurious cars to chauffeur her around. That would be the time to return. So, who would this garden welcome if it were no longer itself?

There was the sound of chickens clucking, then the faint sound of my older brother's motorbike returning from work at the gate. The scent of soapberry still lingered in the wood-burning stove, carried by the wind throughout the garden. Mother was waiting for me by the water jar. I had never felt so much love for this garden. For dinner tonight, Mother had already put a pot of braised fish on the stove...!

Short stories by Tran Ngoc Duc

The reflection in the pond by the bridge

(BGĐT) - The bridge over the pond has remained there for many years, next to the guava tree. Actually, it has been replaced several times because the wood and bamboo have rotted, and now it's been replaced with a sturdy concrete slab. The pond has been a part of Mrs. Ngan's life from her childhood until now, when she is over sixty. The pond is wide, three sides are within the garden, the other side is next to the road leading to the village fields.

A place of indigo green

(BGĐT) - Mai had just put down her bundle of firewood and hadn't even stepped onto the first step of the stairs when she heard her grandfather's deep voice:

Simple happiness

(BGĐT) - Mrs. Nhi stumbled and almost fell in the yard when a neighbor informed her that her son, Tu, had been arrested by the police for gambling. Fortunately, at that moment, Sang, her grandson and Tu's son, ran up and caught her with both hands.

Tiny primrose

(BGĐT) - As soon as Minh stepped out of the car, a crowd of motorbike taxis and regular taxis surrounded her, offering rides... One quick-witted young man chattered incessantly:

Bac Giang , Garden, wood-burning stove, gas stove, cooking, daughter-in-law and mother-in-law, status, family, meal

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