A gift of happiness

Tra closed her grocery store earlier than usual because she was tired. After counting the goods, calculating the principal and profit for the day, Tra closed her notebook and sighed softly. Since building the house and opening the store, the notebook had accumulated many more numbers. These numbers danced in Tra's head, haunting her every meal and sleep. Slumping onto her computer desk, she drifted into a weary sleep after a sweltering day, hearing the sound of trickling water beside her. Strangely, whenever she felt tired, she heard that sound. At first, it was just a faint, indistinct sound, then the sound of the stream became clearer, as if right next to her ear. Sometimes it felt like a stream flowing in her heart, cool and refreshing. It soothed her headache, comforting her exhaustion. Thanks to this, when she woke up, Tra no longer felt burdened. But where did the sound of the stream come from when her house was in the town, squeezed between concrete walls? Even concrete felt suffocating, so where would a stream flow here? Tra told her daughter about the strange thing, and May giggled, saying, "I'll make a stream for you, Mom. A crystal-clear stream." Tra was often melted by those sweet words. Even though Tra knew there would be no stream here except the stream of love.

Illustration: Phan Nhan

Mom, at what age did you start earning money?

- Well… Since I was your age, I've been catching crabs, gathering peanuts, and collecting resin to sell for money. Life was very hard back then. We didn't even have enough to eat, just rice mixed with corn or cassava. So, not just me, but every child had to fend for themselves from a very young age.

So, back then, children didn't have time to play, Mom?

Yes, of course. I play after I've finished all my chores. Actually, I always find joy even while working.

So, if I wanted to earn money now, would you support me, Mom?

Are you serious? Why are you suddenly thinking about making money?

- Because I want to buy my own books and school supplies with money I earn myself. I want to help Mom out.

- Um... That's fine. But how do you plan to earn money?

- Mom, I want to borrow some money to plant a flower garden, then propagate and sell the flowers. I'll pay you back within three months. What do you think of my plan?

Tra hugged May close, and affectionately said:

- Mom is very pleased. We'll discuss it in more detail before you start.

All that afternoon, May skipped around the house. Occasionally, she would peek out the window to admire the small garden her parents had recently bought. It was a plot of farmland right next to the railway tracks that Tra had painstakingly saved up to buy. Tra needed a small garden for her child, to grow some vegetables and a few fruit trees. She had hired workers to build an embankment and string iron mesh to separate it from the railway. Every day after work, Tra's husband would go to the riverbank to bring back several sacks of alluvial soil. Tra had also bought some vegetable seeds. She had even asked for discarded straw from the previous harvest to make compost.

The garden, less than forty square meters, is full of plants that everyone wants to grow. For the past few days, every meal has been a lively discussion about what to plant. Her husband plans to plant some ornamental plants or create a guava orchard so they can harvest and sell the fruit to workers in the industrial zone. Tra intends to plant a few sapodilla, avocado, mango, and sweet pomelo trees for her children. The rest will be used for growing vegetables so the family meals are both delicious and clean. Women are often obsessed with all the chemicals used to soak and preserve food sold in the market. They're obsessed with the thought of buying those things and using them to prepare meals that could poison their families. So Tra prioritizes growing essential fruits and vegetables for daily life. Little May begged for a plot of land to plant flowers. Tra laughed and said:

What kind of flowers are you planning to plant?

- My favorite flowers are roses and daisies. I saw a flower garden on the way to my grandmother's house. On weekends, people sell flowers all along the roadside.

- So, this Sunday, we'll go together to choose some really beautiful flower pots.

***

Every afternoon, instead of playing with her friends in the neighborhood, May would wander around in the garden. May's joy now lay in carefully tending to the dozens of potted flowers of all kinds. Every tiny bud, every newly sprouted seedling, was cherished. May learned how to calculate prices, buying and selling to make a profit. She would place the rose bushes with many buds in front of her mother's shop to sell. The rest she would cultivate to propagate by cuttings, planting them in smaller pots. May began to enjoy reading books on plant care and searching online for effective propagation techniques. Tra bought her little daughter a cute mini hoe and shovel set. She was happy watching her daughter engrossed in the garden, even when she was sometimes covered in dirt. Occasionally, waking up in the morning, Tra would find a vase of roses her daughter had just picked from the garden on the table. Watching her daughter's figure disappear down the road to school, Tra could still faintly smell the fragrance of the flowers emanating from her daughter's delicate fingers.

Everyone calls May "little boss" whenever they visit her mother's grocery store. They all stop and admire the small potted flowers in front of the shop. This season, the climbing roses are blooming in delicate clusters. Gerbera daisies of all colors are budding. Red lilies are opening their petals, smooth as velvet. Everyone who passes by wants to buy something because the flowers are beautiful and because May is so quick-witted and adorable. The house is located on a main road running through the capital and up to the northern mountainous provinces, so there's a constant stream of people from morning until late at night. Customers, laden with backpacks and belongings, rush past but turn back just because "the flower pots are so beautiful." Tra enjoys seeing her daughter grow and mature through selling flowers. Watching her introduce the goods, instruct customers on how to care for the flowers, and carefully help them tie each potted plant onto their vehicles brings Tra peace of mind. Every mother only hopes her child finds joy in their work. Tra comes from a farming family, born into poverty, so more than anyone else, she understands the value of early life lessons that sometimes aren't found in books. As a child, she often drifted off to sleep, lost in dreams fragrant with the scent of mud and earth. She once rejoiced at reading a poem by Giang Nam: “In my childhood, I went to school twice a day / Loving my homeland through every small page of books / Who says tending buffaloes is hard? / I dreamily listened to birds singing high above.” If she hadn't lived through those days of tending buffaloes and cutting grass, Tra might never have appreciated the poem so much…

Mây sat smoothing out the coins she'd just earned from selling flowers. She smoothed them out with hands scratched by rose thorns. After paying off her mother's loan, Mây put the money into a small box. With the remaining profit, she and her father secretly prepared for their little plan. Occasionally, the two of them would sneak off somewhere. Sometimes to the forest, sometimes to the stream, always returning with a bag of pristine white pebbles or colorful cobblestones. Trà completely forgot about her daughter's beautiful afternoons. She was busy importing new stock, checking inventory, and scrambling to raise capital for her business. Customers were increasing, sometimes just buying a lollipop or a ballpoint pen would lead to half an hour of conversation. Trà was busy preparing orders for customers while also tending to the braised fish in the kitchen and the fried eggs in the pan, which she hadn't even had time to flip. Every day was a whirlwind of tasks. Before she could even take a bite of her meal, customers would call out from outside the shop. Tra just wanted to fall asleep surrounded by the scent of roses from her little daughter and the clear, babbling sound of the stream. She reassured herself that soon, when her debts were gone, she would live a peaceful life.

Tra was sick. An illness that had been predicted days in advance. Some days she could only get a few hours of sleep. Occasionally, bouts of migraines would torment Tra. But she refused to rest, even when her husband offered to help with the sales. She was afraid that with so many goods, he wouldn't remember all the prices and would make a mistake, leaving no profit. May quickly said, "Mom, let me do it. I know the prices of every item." But Tra wanted her daughter to spend her time studying and gardening.

Tra was only worried that her daughter, preoccupied with hundreds of different goods, wouldn't have enough mental clarity to study. Tra kept trying until she completely collapsed, delirious with fever, lying in her room, hearing familiar customers calling out to buy goods, but unable to lift herself up. In her delirium, Tra heard her daughter's voice asking about her well-being, felt her daughter's caring touch, and saw warm compresses on her forehead. She smelled clam porridge, heard the clatter of bowls and chopsticks, and the chopping of knives and cutting boards in the kitchen, which jolted her awake from her stupor. Going down to the kitchen, Tra saw her husband and daughter cooking together. The smell of clam porridge—oh, that was a scent that always made Tra crave it, even when she was sick.

- Mom, finish this bowl of clam porridge and take this medicine, and you'll be better soon. Then you can go play in the garden...

- My dad and I have a surprise gift for you.

- A gift for me? What is it?

Mây saw her father signal her to keep it a secret, and the two huddled together, whispering something and giggling. Trà sat leaning against the window, watching the scene and smiling softly. Happiness is sometimes found in simple moments in life, without costing a penny. Yet for so long, Trà had been so busy earning money, putting off herself the day she could live a peaceful life. Happiness doesn't need waiting, it's not that far away. It's right there in the mess and hardship, it's just that Trà had forgotten it. Now, Trà went out into the garden, weaving between the potted plants that were blooming. Suddenly, Trà stopped when she heard the sound of a stream flowing somewhere. A gentle murmur. This wasn't a dream; the sound was clearly very close and very real. Taking a few more steps, a small stream appeared before Trà, created with white pebbles and a large rock that Mây and her father had secretly brought back.

- I promised to bring the sound of a flowing stream to you, Mother. Do you like it?

Tears welled up in Tra's eyes. She took her child's small, scratched hands and pressed them against her cheek, affectionately saying:

- You know what? Actually, you are the greatest gift I have in the world. Thank you, my sweet little cloud...

Source: https://baolamdong.vn/van-hoa-nghe-thuat/202504/mon-qua-hanh-phuc-ac879a6/