Memories of the back-to-school season

As autumn arrives, the gentle breezes and scattered golden leaves on the streets seem to sing a welcoming song for the start of the new school year. The streets are bustling with the excitement of a new beginning. This is the season of first hesitant steps to school, the season of pure and unforgettable memories of childhood. Watching my daughter prepare to enter first grade, my heart is filled with indescribable emotions as memories of my own first day of school suddenly flood back.

(AI)

I still vividly remember the day I was preparing to start first grade. My mother painstakingly pedaled her rickety bicycle to the district market. The dirt road from our house to the market was rough and full of small and large pebbles. Every time the bicycle passed, dust would fly up, clinging to the hems of my mother's trousers and the hem of her dress.

Occasionally, the bicycle would get stuck in a small puddle, the wheels spinning wildly without moving. My mother would have to put her feet down and use all her strength to push. When she got home, she brought back a brand-new uniform: a neatly ironed white shirt, knee-length trousers, and white sneakers .

That night, none of my friends and I from the neighborhood could sleep. Despite being exhausted from running around and playing all day, the excitement overcame our sleepiness. We all met at the end of the street, huddled together under the dim yellow streetlights, chatting excitedly, each of us picturing our first day of school in our own imagination.

The kids kept showing off their clothes and books to each other. A brand-new, crisp white shirt, still faintly smelling of new fabric. A shiny, bright blue schoolbag. We carefully examined and smoothed each page of our brand-new textbooks, still with the seals on them.

Each of us eagerly guessed what the teachers would teach, what the classroom would be like, and whether there would be many new classmates. The joy and anticipation spread, dispelling even the chill of the night. The sparkling night sky seemed to be counting down with us to the moment of our first day of school, when we would be called students for the first time.

Early in the morning, when the air was still cool and the scent of damp earth after the autumn rain permeated the air, the small street was more bustling than usual. I reached for my brand-new backpack, and as soon as I stepped out of the gate, I saw the whole neighborhood unusually lively. Laughter, the sound of bicycles carrying books, hurried footsteps... all blended together, painting a vibrant and colorful picture of the back-to-school season.

My mother gave me countless instructions: I had to be well-behaved, not cry, and make friends with everyone. However, despite all the preparation, I couldn't hide my nervousness the first time I stepped into the classroom; it felt like entering a completely different world .

The school buildings were brightly decorated with banners and colorful paper flowers. The old school building, shaded by green trees, welcomed the new batch of students. The sound of the school bell echoed, blending with the applause of parents and the cheers of students... all creating a symphony full of joy and hope.

I stood there, feeling like I was stepping into a new world full of surprises. Now, looking at my daughter in her new uniform, with her huge backpack on her back, a little shy but with eyes sparkling with joy, I feel like those days were just yesterday, remembering the anxieties and the little awkwardness of preparing to welcome a new beginning.

My mother often said that the day I started first grade was a significant milestone for both of us. It was when I began to learn to be independent, to walk my own path. She couldn't always hold my hand or protect me every step of the way, but she would always be there, watching over me every step of the way.

Looking out from the classroom, I saw my mother still standing in the schoolyard, waving goodbye. In that moment, I knew she was both worried and proud, and I also understood that no matter what the future held, my mother's love would always be my strongest support.

My little daughter is also ready to step out into the wider world. Will she be like me, feeling bewildered and anxious when meeting teachers and friends for the first time? I realize that all those emotions are a continuation of a journey that my mother and I have lived through, as I, too, have become a mother, standing at the threshold of adulthood, watching my daughter embark on a new journey.

No matter how many years pass, the back-to-school season will surely always be a special time in everyone's heart, evoking the purest memories of a time in white uniforms and bringing unforgettable emotions!

Linh Chau

Source: https://baolongan.vn/ky-uc-mua-tuu-truong-a201135.html