Winter Memories

Winter brings me back to memories of the old days. Those were the days when I went to the country market with my mother. Early in the morning, when the rooster crowed in the distance, my mother and I walked along the village road running along the fields, the grass banks still covered with sparkling dew drops. The wild grass flowers fluttered in the wind, attracting passersby, stuck to the legs of my pants. My mother wore a worn brown shirt, shouldered a heavy burden, and hurriedly walked. The country market was simple, small but warm and friendly. The ramshackle shops displayed a variety of goods and agricultural products, such as green vegetables, oranges, bananas, chickens, ducks; farming tools such as baskets, trays, sickles, scythes; live fish jumping around, crabs, snails still covered in dirt. The old man with a hunched back and trembling hands displayed rustic gifts from the countryside: sesame rice paper, a bunch of bananas, a jar of powdered candy. The sounds of people laughing, bargaining, and talking loudly. At the rural market, people not only come to buy and sell but also to meet and share. Stories about the weather, crops, and the bustling village make the market close and full of affection. After selling her vegetables, my mother quickly bought food, fish sauce, and salt to prepare meals for her family. The mornings going to the market with my mother, although just simple moments, contained valuable lessons, nurturing my soul to grow up to feel the love, sacrifice, and care that my mother had for her family.

Remembering the peaceful countryside afternoons, in the kitchen with a flickering fire, the pot of rice mixed with corn and potatoes was boiling. The blue smoke from the kitchen roof was filled with the smell of straw and mud. It was cold, the water was freezing, but my mother still waded in the pond to wash vegetables to carry to the market early the next morning. In the garden, my father was busy chopping wood, cutting bamboo, weaving fishing nets to plow the remaining rice field tomorrow, catching crabs and fish. My mother's hands were thin and dark from time. My father's feet were calloused by the soil and rocks, showing the scars of a hard life. My parents struggled all their lives, raising us from bunches of green vegetables, potatoes, and fish. Those familiar sounds and images made up the countryside afternoons filled with memories. I felt even more sorry for my father and my mother, who had a life of hardship so that their children could grow up and become good people.

Winter, the season of misty mornings. A cold wind blows across the space. Hidden in that misty illusion are memories of a time as a student at a village school, of love and kindness. On the way to school in the mornings through the fields, each cold wind blows, chilling the skin. The grass and trees are withered. The rows of xoan trees along the road have shed all their leaves, leaving only bare branches reaching up against the gray sky. I, Chan, Hau, Ky, a few classmates and the girls call out to each other, walking on the windy field road. Many days, in a hurry to go to school, we pick green bananas and figs to eat. This season, winter vegetables are green in the fields. Being hungry and cold, some children dig up sweet potatoes to share and eat raw. In those days, life was difficult, teaching conditions and facilities were lacking. The school was a row of tiled-roofed houses, the school yard had uneven dirt floors, the classrooms lacked desks and chairs, and the winter wind was bone-chillingly cold. In the bitter cold, both teachers and students went to school with wet hair. During recess, in the spacious school yard, we ran and jumped, moving to ward off the cold. Only a few children still sat huddled in the corner of the classroom, including Chan. Chan was from a poor family. Chan's father was an alcoholic, getting drunk every day, scolding and beating his wife and children. Chan's mother could not bear the beatings of her abusive husband, so she ran away with old man Muc, who was a timber trader upstream, leaving three children in a dilapidated house. During the day, Chan and her sisters were hungry and cold. At night, the three sisters huddled on a torn mat spread on the ground, without pillows or blankets. Every day when he went to school, Chan wore only a thin, porridge-colored shirt with broken buttons. In the bitter cold, Chan's teeth chattered, his lips were gray, and his toes and fingers were purple. Chan was quiet, introverted, and only sat in one place in class, his eyes sad. Perhaps because of a long-term cold, Chan got pneumonia and had to stay home from school. Ms. Hien, the homeroom teacher, rode her bike to Chan's house after school to give him warm clothes, rice, tutor him, and encourage Chan to continue studying. Ms. Hien's kindness aroused the compassion of her students. Not only that, she planted faith in each of us, gave us more strength to rise up, and nurtured our dreams and aspirations for a better future. We helped Chan, some gave us pens, books, some copied our lessons, asked questions, and encouraged us. Winter was warmed by human love, by such love and sharing. With her own determination and the care and help of her teachers and friends, Chan overcame her circumstances, defeated her illness, and continued to go to school...

The memories of that winter still linger in the memory, nourishing the soul, warming the heart, containing so much love and warmth. Winter makes people closer and love each other more sincerely, recalling sacred feelings, reminding memories, reminding the mother's figure, father's shadow, kind hearts and even simple familiar things, to live and love more the moments we have had. Those hearts and feelings are the fire that warms the heart, arousing the eternal belief in love and kindness. In this life, there are still many people in difficult and miserable circumstances who need help. I want to share and spread more human warmth so that winter is always warm with love and affection, adding faith and strength for the poor and unfortunate to rise up in life.

Pham Duc

Source: https://baohungyen.vn/ky-uc-mua-dong-3188739.html