Memories of Youth

Over 30 years ago, my friends and I all had autograph books to record memories of our school days, especially the graduating high school students. The summer of our 18th year seemed to arrive sooner, filled with anxiety about the upcoming graduation exams and a touch of sadness at the thought of saying goodbye to friends, teachers, and school. Despite the busy schedule of studying and exams, the autograph book was quietly passed around to remember those beautiful days.

Student yearbooks are overflowing with memories. Joy, sadness, petty quarrels, and anger, like a breeze rustling through the leaves of the schoolyard. As we prepare to part ways, memories flood back, filling our hearts with longing, so the cherished yearbook is quietly passed from hand to hand. Each time I hold a friend's yearbook, I carefully write down my heartfelt thoughts, reminding them not to forget each other, wishing them success in their dreams, and hoping they will have a fulfilling and fortunate life in the future…

To adults, those are cheesy words, but schoolchildren, with their innocent charm, write flowery messages. I look at my friends' autograph books, with their fresh green handwriting, beautiful illustrations, pressed phoenix flower petals, and pasted ID photos or class photos, and I feel a pang of nostalgia. That face, that laugh, that voice—every memory seems to appear in each line...

Beyond friendship, yearbooks also record the heartfelt sentiments of our teachers. Despite their busy schedules at the end of the year, teachers couldn't bear to refuse writing a few lines for their students. They even showed us how to write, how to decorate, guided us on expressing cultural values, and respected our creative individuality in the yearbooks… The firm handwriting, the deep affection, and the sincere encouragement from our teachers are the motivation that helps us become more confident, strive harder, and stand stronger. Flipping through my friends' yearbooks to write, I was moved to recognize the handwriting of the teachers who had guided us throughout our childhood!

I also remember my time as a Literature student at Da Lat University. Friends from all over gathered in the lecture hall, surrounded by whispering pine trees and misty highlands. Four years flew by, and the last summer felt so poignant. Yearbook entries were passed around, filled with fond memories. In our school days, even though we parted ways, we were still from the same village and district, so it wasn't difficult to meet. But for university students, each of us went our separate ways: some went to the Central Highlands, others stayed in Lam Dong , some to Nghe An, some to Binh Dinh and Quang Nam, and I went to Phu Yen. Who knows when we'll see each other again?! Back then, there were no telephones, so at the end of each yearbook entry, we even wrote down each other's addresses. We said goodbye and promised to return to Da Lat together someday!

In the past, every May, graduating students would write in their yearbooks. They even asked me to write a few lines. Remembering my former teachers, I felt very happy and carefully wrote each line, hoping my students would succeed in their studies and achieve great things... Many yearbooks surprised and delighted me because they clearly showed their personalities, revealed their literary talents, and revealed their career aspirations. The yearbooks reflected pure, sensitive, innocent, dreamy, and very sincere souls. Thanks to these yearbooks, teachers and students understood each other even better.

In recent years, students have become less enthusiastic about writing in yearbooks. When asked, they say that they now have smartphones to take pictures, set scenes, and record videos, which are convenient and high-quality, so they no longer write in yearbooks. Admittedly, the rapid development of science and technology has greatly benefited everyone, but the absence of yearbooks being passed around leaves me with a sense of regret and wistfulness…

At the end of May, the schoolyard was bathed in sunshine, the flamboyant trees blazed with red blossoms, cicadas chirped loudly, and the crape myrtle trees, lost in thought, turned a wistful purple. The school year concluded with a closing ceremony, where students captured beautiful images of their youth – school, friends, and teachers – before parting ways, using various modern devices. Watching groups of students gracefully taking photos, laughing and chatting, their faces beaming with joy, I felt happy too. Suddenly, I heard the echoes of Thanh Son's song, "And sometimes, when we remember each other, our notes remain / Leaving behind stories of joy and sorrow," and my heart wandered, wondering who still remembers those youthful notes?!

Source: https://baolamdong.vn/van-hoa-nghe-thuat/202505/luu-but-ngay-xanh-caf6c08/