Whisper of the Waves

Illustration

The early morning sunlight shimmered on the hibiscus hedge in front of the house, the red flowers like flickering flames in the picture of the countryside lying close to the peaceful Sua River flowing at the foot of the hill, across the village, pouring into the vast ocean.

The season gradually turned to summer. The low-rise roofs lay still under the bright sky. When the sun had risen above the top of the sầu đông tree in front of the house, I walked out into the yard and awkwardly headed towards the Sưa River wharf. My aunt had gone there early. The women of this village often gathered at the Sưa River wharf every early morning or late afternoon to wait for the boats returning from the sea. The men of the village lived mainly by fishing. Their small lives depended on each season of good waves to continue their challenging lives.

Once, my aunt sat looking at me through the flickering light and whispered:

- Quan, try to study hard, son. If you don't study, when you grow up, you will have to go to sea, it will be very hard!

I looked at my aunt. My eyes filled with tears.

I did not reply to my aunt but nodded slightly. At that moment, the image of my father suddenly appeared in my mind on a stormy afternoon. In the Northeast, the sky was as black as ink. Waves rose above people's heads. There were chaotic sounds. People were bustling outside the Sua River. My aunt grabbed a tattered conical hat, put it on her head, tore through the rain and ran to the river mouth, calling my father's name.

Dad is not coming back. Forever…

Since then, my father has been absent from the Sua River wharf.

During those days, I often asked my aunt during the nights when I lay with my hands on my forehead while the rain still drizzled on the roof and the Sua River still flowed. In the other room, my aunt was still awake, the light was still on and sometimes I could still hear her coughing.

- Do you believe in miracles?

A few seconds later, I heard my aunt whisper in response:

- Miracle? What is it? I don't know anymore. It's too far away, Quan!

I sighed. My aunt didn't believe in miracles either. Only I was still waiting for a figure that was still lost in the clouds and wind...

*

I never called her mother. She didn't question it either. Every day, my aunt often went to the Sua River wharf to look towards the river mouth, where in the mornings, fishing boats often returned from the open sea, bringing with them a lot of fresh fish. The Sua River wharf was bustling for a moment and then became quiet, with only the sound of the Sua River waves lapping the shore and the sound of flies buzzing when they detected the smell of rotten fish. There were also times when I saw my aunt covering her face and sobbing when she witnessed the wives huddled with their husbands after their return trips, wiping away the sweat running down their faces or their bare, tanned chests filled with the strong scent of men. At that moment, I suddenly wanted to run to hug my aunt tightly and wipe away the tears running down her dark face, marked with wrinkles from a lifetime of hard work. Then there was an invisible string tying my legs! I stood still under the shade of the sầu đông tree, looking towards the Sưa river wharf, watching my aunt sobbing and gnawing at her pain.

Time seemed to stop so I could look at her carefully, realizing the years had appeared on her hair, face and figure. Without my father, my aunt's life was full of hardships.

Many times I wanted to hold my aunt’s thin hands to soothe the wounds in her life. But then something made me hesitate. Day after day, I was still indifferent, apathetic and cold towards my aunt. I never confided in her, only asked or responded to the necessary things so that we could recognize each other’s existence in the small house on the windy Sua River bank.

*

My father married my aunt not long after my mother passed away. That time, I was very angry with my father!

I took out all my anger and resentment on my aunt because my father had rushed into getting married when my mother had just left. Because in my perception, my aunt was the extra person in this house, the one who had interfered with our peaceful life.

Coming back to the village from the other side of the Sua River, my aunt brought nothing but a bag of clothes and a fishing net that she had not finished mending. I sat huddled under the Sau Dong tree, looking at her, she smiled at me. My gaze was as sharp as an arrow. She walked behind, about three or four steps away from my father. Seeing that scene, tears suddenly rolled down my cheeks. At that time, I found my aunt more hateful than pitiful. In the mind of a seven or eight year old child, that strange woman would replace my mother in my father's heart, and even I would be "left out". I was so resentful! In the first days when my aunt was home, I just hung around under the Sau Dong tree, outside the hibiscus fence, under the Sua River wharf,... The river was long and immense. The closer we got to the river mouth, the more turbulent the water became. The Sua River had witnessed the happy days of our family, as well as the losses, sorrows, and rapid changes in my family.

Many nights I watched my aunt walking around the small house. At that time, the village still had no electricity. Every night, the flickering oil lamps cast her shadow on the wall. She had her hair down, her face was absent-minded because she was worried about making a living in the stormy days ahead. I saw that she looked so much like my mother! Looking at her, I missed my mother so much! My mother had slept peacefully in the softness of the good land. She had immersed her soul into the land, the garden, into the flow of the Sua River. The longing made it impossible for me to read a complete rhyme lesson. For difficult words, I would mumble, trying to mumble loudly so that my aunt knew I couldn’t read. Then my aunt would come to me and read the difficult words for me to read along.

On the days I missed my mother, when I saw my aunt, I wanted to hold her hand, act spoiled and then fall into her arms to caress her tenderly. But then I couldn't do it. My aunt looked at me for a long time, her eyes filled with affection, she asked me:

- Quan, why do you hate your aunt so much?

I bowed my head and did not answer.

- Yes, that's right! I didn't give birth to you, I wasn't with you since you were little... That's why...! Quan, do you think I'm the one who stole your father?

I didn't answer. Suddenly my throat choked up, tears welled up in my eyes. How I loved my aunt so much. In all those years of living together, she had never yelled at me like the stepmothers in the fairy tales I had read. She had always been tolerant, kind, and sacrificed for my three children. Perhaps the image of my late mother still stood tall like a fortress in my heart, so I was determined not to break down the wall to accept another image. To me, my mother was everything! My beloved mother had gone to heaven, leaving behind wounds that were difficult to heal in my soul. My aunt was like a doctor who soothed that pain in me day by day, hour by hour, and then one day, my aunt helplessly said to me in the rustling afternoon wind:

- Oh my God! Quan, when will you call me "mom" again? Does my love for you differ from the love of a mother for her own son?!

I stood there as if rooted to the ground. The wind kept blowing against the roof, making my heart ache. The wind smelled of the Sua River. The wind carried the salty taste of the sea, the smell of squid in the last rays of sunlight at the end of the afternoon. I felt so sorry for my aunt! I wanted to call out “Mom” but I still couldn’t say it. I suddenly ran to the Sua River wharf, sat with my face up looking at the sky, letting two streams of tears fall freely on the cheeks of a fourteen, fifteen year old boy…

*

My aunt still diligently goes to the Sua River wharf to welcome each fish boat, even though those boats will never have my father's presence.

My aunt still fanned the fire every morning and evening, in the simple kitchen, the dishes she cooked, the fragrant, sticky rice pot with smoke rising to the roof... At home meals, my aunt still sat devotedly removing fish bones for me. She imprisoned her life in this house, on the banks of the Sua River, but not because of my father, not because of her love, but sometimes I thought that she was the one who interrupted our peaceful life. She was for me. Because without her, I would be like a lonely bird, lost in the sky, like a stranded fish in the middle of a scorching summer.

This month, hibiscus lights up the front yard, along the road leading to the Sua River.

In the afternoon, I went home against the wind. The afternoon sea was quiet. A certain nostalgia was stirring inside me. When I just stepped over the threshold and went inside, I suddenly saw a strangely familiar image. On an old wooden chair with one broken leg, my aunt had to use a wooden stick to fix it and nail it, placed next to the wall of the house, my aunt was sitting meticulously sewing each stitch for me. That image somehow looked so much like my mother in the past. And then I looked back, it wasn't my mother, it was my aunt. I knew that my aunt would never be my mother, but the love I had for her could be as full and complete as the love I had for my late mother. Tears welled up in my eyes.

- Auntie!… Mom… Mom!…

My voice seemed to break in the quiet afternoon space of the house. Since my father left, the house still kept a quiet, solemn atmosphere like that!

As if afraid that she had just heard wrongly, whether it was the sound of the river or the wind, my aunt raised her face and rubbed her ears. I exclaimed between sobs:

- Mom! I love you so much!

The shirt in my aunt’s hand fell to the ground. She slowly walked towards me. Even she could not hide her emotions when she was called “mother” by the sacred and noble name!

- Quan, my son!

I hugged my aunt tightly, crying like I had never cried before. In my ears, I could hear the gentle sound of the Sua River, the gentle sound of the river wind pouring into my ears the songs my mother used to sing to me to sleep. In the sound of the waves, of the ocean, of the earth and sky… there was a whisper of my mother loving me!

Hoang Khanh Duy

Source: https://baolongan.vn/loi-thi-tham-cua-song-a192893.html