April memories

(QBĐT) - April. Thin, spiderweb-like rays of sunlight cast a rosy glow on the kitchen roof. Mother said it was the gentle morning sun after the spring rains and drizzles. This gentle sun makes people feel more vibrant and warm thanks to the harmonious interaction and blending of all things in nature. In the garden, morning glory flowers swayed in the breeze, and by the hedge, sparrows chirped among the dew still clinging to the blades of grass. The house was strangely peaceful in the pristine sunlight. Mother cut a white lily and placed it in a Chu Dau ceramic vase, then sent her grandchild to the front porch to pick some betel leaves. Mother sat preparing betel quid on the ebony wood platform, the fragrant scent of betel leaves and cinnamon mingling with the aroma of the chay tree bark, filling the house with warmth.

After a moment of reflection, my mother said, "Time flies so fast, half a lifetime has passed in the blink of an eye. Exactly fifty years ago was the day I gave birth to you. You were just one month old when the South was liberated and the country was reunified. The events of April 1975 were an unforgettable day of joy. It was the moment of national reunification, the liberation of the South. The memories of that historic April remain vivid in my mind, your father's, and the minds of the soldiers. It's an unforgettable historical milestone. During those April days, the whole country turned its attention to the South. In the countryside, people gathered around transistor radios to listen to news of victory. Revolutionary songs resounded everywhere, from small alleys to large cities, with flags and flowers everywhere."

Father sat basking in the sun in front of the betel nut trees, his shadow stretching long across the brick courtyard. His hair had turned white with age, his hands covered in small, mottled age spots. He silently poured chrysanthemum tea from an earthenware teapot into two small cups, as if it were a ritual. He said, "Lately I've been having trouble sleeping, but drinking your mother's chrysanthemum tea helps me sleep better." He added, "At the end of last year, the Provincial Veterans Association invited us to revisit the old battlefields. After visiting and offering incense to our fallen comrades, each of us received a gift and a box of chrysanthemum tea." Then, he sipped his tea and reminisced about the heroic years gone by.

April 1975 was not only a time of joy, but also a time of profound gratitude to those who sacrificed for the independence and freedom of the nation. The soldiers fought tirelessly, and the people bravely overcame all hardships to contribute to that great victory. The flag of the National Liberation Front flying atop the Independence Palace was a moment when the entire nation erupted in joy, pride, and hope for a peaceful future and national reunification.

In 1967, my father was a communications soldier. The war against the US was incredibly fierce. Besides their equipment, each soldier carried technical devices to ensure timely communication and radio contact with engineering, artillery, and anti-aircraft units. I often heard my father recount the years he spent traversing high mountains, dense forests, and deep streams to transmit and receive messages from headquarters, establishing communication networks that were both secret and reliable – an extremely difficult and arduous task.

My father said that only soldiers who have faced life and death truly understand the price of peace, and only those who fought in war yearn for peace more than anyone else, because they were the ones who directly held the weapons and fought. The moment of April 30, 1975, was when the entire nation was united, "Mountains and rivers joined together, North and South united as one family." Tens of thousands of homes were brightly lit, millions of people were overjoyed and couldn't sleep, because everyone knew that fathers and sons, husbands and wives, would now be reunited forever.

A few years ago, watching my father's thin, frail hands sift through the battlefield relics left behind after the liberation of South Vietnam, as if they were precious treasures, filled my heart with emotion. He took out from his personal ammunition box a parachute hammock, an old pair of binoculars, a pair of faded military insignia, a battlefield notebook, an aluminum water canteen, a yellowed, peeling black-and-white photograph of him with his comrades, and especially a small stuffed sparrow made from scraps of a tank, skillfully sewn together to give to my older sister while he was recovering in the operating room. These were all my father's mementos from the victory.

The comrades of my father in the photo—some are still alive, some have passed away. Some fell in the war and rest forever in the embrace of Mother Earth, while others sacrificed their blood, bones, and parts of their bodies for the reunification of the country. These are sacred flames that will never be extinguished in the hearts of soldiers like my father and those fortunate enough to return home.

Half a century has passed since the war ended, yet the memories of a glorious, fiery era remain deeply etched in my father's heart. I know soldiers don't regret their youth, they live their lives to the fullest for a greater cause, but soldiers long to rediscover their youth in the embrace of their comrades. Every April, the weather becomes clearer and gentler, thanks to the white lilies that bloom throughout the streets. I hear the emotion welling up in my father; April, the season of flowers, the season of the soul, and the season of independence, freedom, and happiness.

Source: https://baoquangbinh.vn/van-hoa/202504/ky-uc-thang-tu-2225674/