The color of the flamboyant tree blossoms

One afternoon, as I walked across my old schoolyard, I came across a corner of the yard where the flame trees were in full bloom, their red blossoms illuminating the entire space. That familiar sight revived in me so many beautiful memories of days gone by, days that will probably never return…

My childhood was intertwined with the vibrant red of the flamboyant tree blossoms. My sister said that the deep red color of the flowers symbolized school days, the color of fond memories and longing that anyone who experienced those school years could never forget. Back when my sister wore her traditional ao dai dress and cycled to school early in the morning, I would occasionally see her picking up fallen blossom petals and arranging them into butterfly shapes on a white sheet of paper. It seemed like a futile effort, but I also experienced similar days.

When the flame trees above begin to burst into a riot of vibrant blossoms, I feel an indescribable mix of emotions. It's also exam season, a season of farewells. The flame trees bloom as if by a law of nature, adorning the schoolyard during the final days of the old school year, a color bidding farewell to the old students leaving behind a school steeped in unforgettable memories. One afternoon, passing through the old schoolyard, the old, gray-haired, hunched security guard no longer recognized the mischievous student who used to climb over the fence because he was late. I stood there, lost in thought, under the shade of the flame trees, also in full bloom, the schoolyard silent except for the chirping of cicadas rustling in the trees. I looked at the old classrooms, the moss-covered walls, and suddenly heard the silent voice of my former teacher reciting poetry: “How much I want to say, how much I want to cry / The first song I sing is about the old school / A classroom, wistful with its drooping green / The schoolyard at night, the banyan fruit falling…” (poem by Hoang Nhuan Cam).

Illustration: Tra My

These verses, etched deep into the hearts of my generation, resonate in my ears every time I think of my old school, echoing in a realm of poignant nostalgia. I walk through the now-upgraded, sturdy corridors, no longer crumbling as before, winding beneath the magnificent rose bushes. Every familiar corner of the courtyard, every moss-covered wall, evokes unforgettable memories in me.

The season of the flamboyant tree blossoms in my heart. Its vibrant red color is like the color of a passionate heart. I don't understand why, but it makes sense when people liken the flamboyant tree to the flower of school days, the flower of exams, the flower of farewells. That year, as we sat under the school roof during the last days of our student lives, a mix of sadness and joy, the flamboyant tree blossomed red on the branches, a signal to soothe the hearts of the students before parting ways. A burning flamboyant season, the last flamboyant season of our school days, and no matter how many more flamboyant seasons follow, none can evoke the same memories and affection as this last one.

The sound of the school bell echoed in my imagination, and I suddenly saw myself lingering in the schoolyard on my last day of school, until only I, a student with a heart full of memories, remained. I don't remember exactly what I said to the flame tree blossoms then, but many years later, every time I pass by my old school amidst the red blossoms, my heart feels a pang of nostalgia. In that moment, I say to myself: Oh time! Oh youth! Please preserve for me these beautiful memories of a bygone school day…

Source: https://baodaklak.vn/van-hoa-du-lich-van-hoc-nghe-thuat/202506/mau-hoa-phuong-vi-51c016f/