Lullaby

That is a part of the cool childhood that each person carries with them into life. There, the private world can freely play and dive into the sweet realm of thoughts.

Sweet milk, mother's gentle lullaby contains so much love

1. Perhaps it is a disadvantage for children who were not born in the village like me. Because, it was not until later, when I was twelve or thirteen years old, that I actually saw with my own eyes the village gate, the banyan tree, the well, the communal house yard... in my mother's lullaby. The difficult life of earning a living from day to day in the sunny and windy Central Highlands of my parents made their children and their homeland separate in heart and mind. My mother's voice was not good, but it was warm, her whispering words were like medicine that made my sisters and I quickly fall into a deep sleep.

My first lesson and perhaps that of many people must be the melody and lyrics " Father's merit is like Thai Son mountain/mother's love is like water flowing from the source/worship mother and father with all your heart/to fulfill filial piety is the way of a child ". Love is like an underground stream that seeps every night. It permeates the child's soul to gradually form filial piety. Then, when I grow up, have my own small family, hold my first child in my arms, my mouth hums the lullabies that my mother sang to me years ago.

My childhood memories do not have the figure of my grandmother. My parents, who had left home to make a living in the wild and poisonous forests, could only rely on each other to support the family. Therefore, every time I saw my friends clinging to my maternal and paternal grandmothers, being hugged and caressed by them, I felt a pang of childish sadness. At that time, my house was in the collective housing area of ​​the agency where my parents worked. Each house was separated by a wall woven from bamboo. Whatever one house said, the other could hear as clearly as if it were my own house. Every time I heard my grandmother sing lullabies to her grandchildren, I pressed my ear against the wall to listen to that melodious and pleasant melody and then fell asleep without knowing it. Perhaps in that sleep, there was a white stork flying leisurely in the vastness of the fields.

2. I knew "Bồm has a palm leaf fan/The rich man asked to exchange it for three cows and nine buffaloes" not through the name of the boy named Bồm at the beginning of the village, but "Bồm" crept into my mind through my mother's lullaby. Sometimes I asked my mother, "Why did Bồm only exchange a handful of sticky rice? He's too greedy, isn't he, Mom?", my mother would pat my head and smile and ask back, "So you, you also exchange a handful of sticky rice to fill your stomach, right?", then we would laugh out loud, the innocent, clear laughter of "Bồm".

My childhood world also had "The ant climbed the banyan tree/climbed a truncated branch, climbing in and out/The ant climbed the peach tree/climbed a truncated branch, climbing in and out", and "The dragonfly flew low, it rained/it flew high, it was sunny, it flew medium, it was cloudy", "The cat climbed the areca tree/it asked the mouse where he was away from home"..., an extremely cute and funny world. Animals followed their mother's lullabies to appear, chase and play in the child's mind and remained there until now.

Once, my mother sang: "A hundred years of stone stele will wear away/a thousand years of oral stele will still stand", suddenly the house next door heard the sound of pots, pans, and dishes clattering. My mother felt guilty for saying something wrong so she kept quiet. When I grew up, I understood that the boy next door was born from recklessness, so when she heard the lullaby, her mother felt sad.

When I was a little older, I started babbling to my baby on my behalf. When my baby cried and wanted to sleep, I carried him from house to house, rocking and patting him in all sorts of ways, but he still cried, so I tried singing the words my mother used to sing to me. Surprisingly, the baby gradually stopped hiccuping and fell asleep on my shoulder, while I continued to sing whatever I could remember. And so, my baby grew up to my lullaby.

Preserving for the next generation comes from the simplest, most ordinary things in life that few people think about because they think it is just a habit. So we understand, anything that comes from life has a lasting vitality and can spread widely.

Now that I have chosen language as my career, and have freely explored the meaning of lullabies, I have come to understand the layers of values ​​hidden deep within the language. That spiritual value is the crystallization of many generations of experience for future generations to ponder and absorb. Now I no longer naively ask my mother questions like "Mom, why did the mustard plant go up to the sky, why did the Vietnamese coriander stay and not follow the mustard plant?" when my mother sang " The wind carries the mustard plant up to the sky/the Vietnamese coriander stays and endures the bitter words of life " like when I was a child. Reflecting back to absorb the depths of life that I have experienced to find common ground and share.

3. Childhood memories are always something that almost everyone will carry with them with great treasure. They are good seeds sown in the soil of each person's soul. The way to take care of that garden is different for each person so that the trees can blossom and bear sweet fruit. Time will never return, and so will childhood. The feeling of being able to freely swim and bathe in the river of childhood is always a painful thing for anyone born and raised in the river of their hometown.

I rely on my mother's lullaby to nurture the gentle warmth of my heart. In the past, my grandmother sang to my mother with love and expectation. My mother sang to me with all her love and expectation. Then when I grew up and my children were born one after another, I sang to them with my pure childhood memories to return to my childhood. It was those experiences that nurtured in me a love for literature and things that contain the cultural identity of my nation and homeland.

The sweet milk, the gentle lullaby of mother, both whispering and containing so much affection and longing, is the source of love for everyone. That lullaby is the most gentle and sparkling river, flowing from childhood to the end of life, filled with beautiful memories. Somewhere faintly echoes the gentle and warm autumn wind " Autumn wind mother lulls her child to sleep/ five watches awake five watches... ".

Source: https://thanhnien.vn/loi-ru-tao-noi-185240630173817728.htm