Lullabies forever in life | QUANG NAM ONLINE NEWSPAPER

(VHQN) - On a peaceful summer afternoon, the little girl lay on a hammock strung between two tamarind trees with heavy green fruit, her cheek was on the opposite end, one leg was straight and long for the little girl to hug tightly, the other leg was hanging loosely on the ground, swinging the hammock: "Lullaby, baby, to sleep/ Watching you grow up to be a wise person".

The storks of my homeland. Photo: Dang Ke Dong

I tried to tell myself to stay awake and talk to my mother, the sweet lullabies wafting in the cool breeze still lulled the little girl into a peaceful dream. Those were the rare summer days when my mother sang me to sleep.

When I suddenly woke up from my afternoon nap and ran around looking for my mother, the familiar scent had been carried away by the wind somewhere. My mother shouldered her shoulder pole and left home to go to the city to collect every penny she could to feed the whole family.

Perhaps the lullaby was born at the same time as the children, containing the boundless love of their grandmothers and mothers, that's why it's so sweet and lingering.

The first lesson life taught me at the age of four was acceptance. No matter how much I missed my mother, no matter how much loss and fear of abandonment I felt, I still tried to accept that she could not always be by my side.

The struggle to make a living as adults forces our parents to temporarily leave us. And on the road to adulthood, there will come a time when children need to spread their wings and say goodbye to their parents.

The only thing that guided me through the uncertain days of learning to play and sleep alone was the affectionate lullaby that my mother gently rocked me in the hammock one afternoon: "Once upon a time, I was a tiny baby/ Now I've grown up like this/ Father's rice, mother's clothes, teacher's words/ Think about how to make up for the days of longing."

Someone once asserted that as long as a Vietnamese woman gives birth, she will automatically know how to sing a lullaby. So is it possible that lullabies were born at the same time as children, containing the boundless love of their mothers and grandmothers, that is why they are so sweet and lingering?

When we still don't understand anything, lullabies are woven with the scent of the first person to hold the child, lullabies are wrapped in the gentle voice of each mother, lullabies carry the familiar shape of the countryside.

In the afternoon dream, there are kites flying in the wind, there is the thin figure of a farmer carrying the sun on his back in the field, there is the sound of a flute leading the buffaloes home, there are storks calling the sunset down to the bamboo fence of the village...

When I was a little older, the lullabies and the running and playing of children were heard. I was also one of those children who played hopscotch in front of the porch, humming and imitating my mother's song: "A girl in the house should take care of the housework/ Her appearance is graceful, gentle and kind/ When she eats, when she speaks, she is mature/ When she sits, when she stands, she is graceful and graceful".

Lullabies are not just lullabies. Lullabies are teachings of the ancients, nurturing the soul and shaping personality. Folk songs convey love for the countryside, contain family affection, share perspectives on life around or how to treat others.

Because of that, even though sometimes I lack my mother's hand, I can still grow up proudly thanks to the sweet lullaby that is deeply imprinted in my subconscious: " Every afternoon I miss the afternoon/ I miss the pot of cold rice, I miss the pot of tea/ I miss the time I got on and off the horse/ I miss the bowl of tea, I miss the pot of sugar ".

The lullaby of that time has accompanied me on my mother’s behalf throughout my life, supporting every step, wrapping up all the memories of my roots. During my exile, countless times drifting among the strange crowds in the streets, it was that lullaby that reminded me that, in my distant homeland, there is still my mother waiting day and night: “ When you go, your father is afraid, your mother is worried/ The river is deep, the water is high, the ferry does not take you/ The day is getting earlier and later/ My eyes are tired from waiting, but you have not come back yet ”…

When we were young, every child wished to grow up quickly so that we could roam around freely. When we grew up, we longed for the summer afternoons of our childhood, when our grandmother and mother would comfort us with their loving lullabies. And we longed to return even if it was only in a half-awake dream.

I have no musical talent, and I don’t have a treasure trove of folk songs and folk songs stored in my head like my mother did. But I always believe that when my child is born, the lullaby will come naturally.

I will lull my child to sleep as a way for me to find my mother, to find the me of the old days. “Au o, vi dau cau be dot troi”, lullaby, lullaby is also a way to lull my heart in endless longing for life.

Source