Winter brings back memories of the old days. Those were the days of my childhood, going to the village market with my mother. In the early morning, as the roosters crowed in the distance, my mother and I walked along the village road that ran alongside the fields, the grass still glistening with dew. Wildflowers fluttered in the wind, clinging to passersby and getting caught in our trousers. My mother, wearing a worn brown áo dài (traditional Vietnamese dress), hurried along, carrying a heavy yoke. The village market was simple, small, but warm and familiar. The dilapidated thatched stalls displayed a wide variety of goods and agricultural products: green vegetables, oranges, bananas, chickens, ducks; farming tools like baskets, sieves, sickles, and scythes; live fish still wriggling, crabs and snails still covered in mud. Old women with hunched backs and trembling hands displayed simple, rustic gifts: sesame rice crackers, bunches of bananas, jars of powdered candy. The sounds of laughter, bargaining, and noisy conversations filled the air. In the rural market, people come not only to buy and sell but also to meet and share. Stories about the weather, the harvest, and the lively chatter of the village make the market feel intimate and full of warmth and affection. After selling her basket of vegetables, my mother would quickly buy groceries, fish sauce, and salt to prepare meals for the family. Those mornings going to the market with my mother, though simple moments, held precious lessons, nurturing my soul as I grew up to appreciate the love, sacrifice, and care my mother dedicated to our family.
I remember those peaceful country afternoons, the kitchen fire crackling warmly, the pot of rice mixed with corn and potatoes bubbling away. The bluish smoke rising from the kitchen roof carried the scent of straw and the earthy smell of mud. The weather was cold, the water freezing, yet Mother still waded through the pond washing vegetables to carry to the market early the next morning. In the garden, Father diligently chopped firewood, cut bamboo, and wove fishing nets to finish plowing the field the next day, hoping to catch some crabs and fish. Mother's hands were thin and darkened by time. Father's feet were calloused from the hard work of the land, bearing the marks of a life of toil. Parents toiled their whole lives, raising us with bundles of green vegetables, potatoes, and fish from the fields. Those familiar sounds and images create a countryside afternoon filled with memories. I feel even more love and longing for my father and mother, who endured a lifetime of hardship so that their children could grow up and become decent people.
Winter, the season of misty mornings. A biting wind sweeps through the air. Hidden within this hazy illusion are memories of our village school days, of love and kindness. On our way to school, we walked across the fields, the biting wind chilling our skin. The grass and trees were withered. The rows of crape myrtle trees along the roadside had shed all their leaves, leaving only bare branches reaching up against the gray sky. I, Chẩn, Hậu, Ký, a few classmates, and the girls called out to each other as we walked along the windy field path. Many days, in our hurry to school, we would pick green bananas and figs to eat. This season, the winter vegetables were growing lush in the fields. Hungry and cold, some of us would dig up sweet potatoes and share them raw. Life was difficult back then, teaching conditions and facilities were scarce. The school was a row of single-story buildings with tiled roofs, the schoolyard was uneven and muddy, the classrooms lacked desks and chairs, and the winter wind was bone-chilling. In the biting cold, both teacher and students arrived at school with their hair damp with dew. During recess, we ran and played in the spacious schoolyard to ward off the chill. Only a few children remained huddled in the corner of the classroom, including Chẩn. Chẩn came from a poor family. Her father was an alcoholic, drunk every day, cursing and beating his wife and children. Her mother, unable to bear the beatings from her abusive husband, left with old Mục, a timber merchant in the highlands, leaving three young children in a dilapidated house. During the day, Chẩn and her siblings went hungry and cold. At night, the three of them huddled together on a tattered mat spread on the ground, without pillows or blankets. Every day, Chẩn went to school wearing only a thin, gray shirt with missing buttons. In the freezing cold, her teeth chattered, her lips turned gray, and her toes and fingers were purple. Chẩn was quiet and withdrawn, sitting alone in class with a sad look in her eyes. Perhaps due to prolonged exposure to the cold, she developed pneumonia and had to miss school. Ms. Hien, our homeroom teacher, would cycle to Chan's house after school to give him warm clothes, rice, tutor him, and encourage him to continue his studies. Ms. Hien's kind heart awakened compassion in her students. Not only that, she instilled in each of us faith, giving us strength to strive, nurturing our dreams and aspirations for a better future. We helped Chan; some gave him pens and ink, books and notebooks, others copied his notes for him, and we asked about his well-being and offered encouragement. The winter was warmed by human kindness and shared love. With his own willpower and the care and support of his teacher and friends, Chan overcame his circumstances, conquered his illness, and continued to attend school...
Memories of that winter remain etched in my mind, nurturing my soul, warming my heart, and filled with so much love and warmth. Winter brings people closer and fosters genuine affection, evoking sacred feelings, recalling memories, remembering the image of a mother, the shadow of a father, acts of kindness, and even the simple, familiar things, allowing us to live and cherish the moments we have. These feelings and sentiments are a flame that warms the heart, igniting an undying belief in love and compassion. Life still holds many people in difficult and impoverished circumstances who need help. I want to share and spread more of this human warmth so that winter remains warm with love and compassion, giving strength and hope to those in poverty and misfortune to rise above their circumstances.
Source: https://baohungyen.vn/ky-uc-mua-dong-3188739.html
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