( Quang Ngai Newspaper) - After each journey of wandering, people want to rely on their hometown to find some shelter and comfort. Maybe just a few lines of sweet memories are enough to soothe and calm all the worries and concerns. I have relied on my hometown like that every time my heart is lonely and longing but I have not had time to return...
My nostalgia for my homeland begins with my longing for my mother. Whenever I miss my mother, I often think of my hometown river. A river that flows tirelessly, quietly and kindly, whether clear or murky, full or empty, it is always faithful, like my mother, who has a simple life but carries a deep, boundless love.
 |
| (Illustration) |
The layers of alluvium are diligently deposited and cultivated to make the fields lush and green, with mulberry and rice fields. The river meanders and bends, embracing a strip of village land. The people of my hometown depend on the river for their livelihood, and then continue the lives of people who have endured hardship and drifted with the waves. Season after season, fish and shrimp are the eternal blessings bestowed by the river, and although sometimes empty and sometimes full, they are still full of gratitude.
Oh river, I miss so much my childhood, every afternoon I spent diving with my childhood friends. Those skinny, dark children spent the whole summer digging for mussels, catching clams, fishing, and casting nets at the end of the beach and the head of the rapids. During the dry season, they waded through the mud to fish for crabs and fish. The river gave me so much, all the products of the four seasons, along with countless childhood memories that never fade from my mind.
Every time the afternoon sun sets, the south wind rises up, the sunset casts its shadow on the river of my hometown, a deep red color. That is every time I wander along the dike, looking towards the bamboo bridge to find my mother's figure, limping back with her shoulder pole. In my young memory, every day my mother often takes a boat from early morning to the island on the other side of the river, selling fish in baskets, mainly grilled herring and sardines. I don't know how much profit she makes, but she usually comes back late at night, sometimes exchanging fish for potatoes, beans...
How passionate and full of love the river is, how protective the mother is. The water of the hometown river nourishes our souls since childhood, each drop of alluvium is carefully preserved through the vicissitudes of life to build us a tall and broad figure. Like my mother, who is frugal with words, bears many hardships, and is patient and humble in the face of many bargains and grudges. My mother does not give me money, but the legacy she leaves me is a whole legacy of being human. I learn from my mother tolerance and gratitude, so that my heart will always be heavy with the longing for my roots and homeland; to know how to ache for a bamboo grove, a shore, a ferry anchored at a deserted dock waiting for someone...
After each long mile of wandering in the hustle and bustle of the city, I want to return to the river, to the village to wash away all the sadness and dust, to sit in the middle of my hometown and absent-mindedly miss my mother like a child in the past...
NGO THE LAM
RELATED NEWS:
Source
Comment (0)