The season of northerly winds

For some reason, I love the arrival of the north wind. My mother says that the north wind blows coldly, and there's nothing to look forward to. I chuckle, but I still wait. Everyone has their own preferences; my mother likes the rainy season in June, my youngest sister likes the sunny August season with its sun-kissed pomelos hanging in front of the house… As for me, I like the cool season, the season when the mustard greens by the riverbank bloom yellow, and the wind whistles against my skin, stinging it.

I sat inside the house, anxiously looking out towards the riverbank. Little Ut was nowhere to be found. My mother noticed me and asked why I was so restless, like I was sitting on a pile of burning coals. I shook my head. My mother didn't seem to care. My heart was burning with anxiety. Good heavens, where had this little girl been for so long? From here to the village, it felt like she'd gone to Can Tho , Saigon, or some other bustling metropolis.

Feeling restless, I stepped out onto the veranda and pretended to talk about the rapeseed flowerbeds by the riverbank, which were already blooming profusely even at the beginning of the north wind season. I mentioned that every afternoon, Mom would dress up nicely and pose for Little Sister to take a picture of her to post online… to make her look pretty.

My mother clicked her tongue, saying I was talking nonsense. Never mind! Maybe later, those pictures will become cherished memories – I thought, feeling a pang of sadness. My mother went to the back of the house, bundled up some dried coconut leaves and piled them on the kitchen rack so we'd have something to light the fire for Tet. I waited, muttering: "You devil! Why are you going so far? Come back quickly..."

Little Ut returned. Unlike usual, she wasn't cheerful, running her hand through her long hair and smiling as if she'd just met her loved one. Little Ut's face was tense. She darted across the small, now dry ditch and ran to me, whispering:

"They've already set up the gates and tents, Hai! It looks like it's going to be a big celebration!" Út described.

- So, what's the big deal? Tell me. Oh my God! You devil, tell me quickly, why are you hesitating? - I urged.

Little Ut looked at me with a displeased expression. I looked at her with a pleading gaze because I wanted to hear her tell me everything she had seen. Ah… the theater was as big as a house, built in the traditional style, with red fabric and colored threads, and the music was pounding loudly. It wasn't even the main day yet, but it was already incredibly crowded… Hearing Little Ut's words only made me more anxious. Should I tell her, "Why are you describing the theater? I don't want to hear that! Tell me the important story! The story about Mr. Kien!" But that would be too blunt, so I decided against it! I'll wait.

The youngest child covered her mouth and giggled.

"Look, Hai still loves him so much, doesn't she?" Little Ut looked deep into my eyes. The question was so unexpected that I was stunned.

"Nonsense!" I interrupted. "What's there to feel sorry for? He's already gotten married, it's inappropriate to say such things." I retorted. Suddenly, my youngest sister fell silent, and I was silent too. I felt a stinging sensation in my nose, my throat tightened. But why was I crying? I was happy just now. No! I told myself! What utter rubbish. Let whoever wants to get married do so; I'm living my own life, why should I be happy or sad because of other people's affairs?

I waved my hand dismissively, telling her to go cook dinner; if we huddled together any longer, Mom would scold us to death. I left, leaving behind Little Sister's bewildered gaze as she watched my figure disappear into the twilight of the rural afternoon, hiding in the middle room of the house where the lights hadn't been turned on yet…

* *

The mustard greens by the riverbank are in their most beautiful season. I love mustard flowers, so whenever I see the soil dry, I carry water to water them. Now, the riverbank is dotted with yellow blossoms. With the north wind blowing, the mustard greens bloom even more profusely. In the quiet morning, with neither sun nor rain, I go to the riverbank to comb my hair, my ears listening to the lively music drifting from the village.

"Hey!" Little Ut's voice startled me. This girl, was she trying to give me a heart attack? Little Ut covered her mouth and giggled. Then, suddenly, her face turned serious, and she looked in the direction of the sound coming from the river.

"Are you sad, Hai?" Little Ut whispered.

I was stunned: What's there to regret? I suddenly regret it!

Út Nhỏ continued: "Well, it's a pity... a pity for Mr. Kiên! He's gotten married! Do you two feel sorry about that?"

"Good heavens, you're acting like Kien is the only man in this place!" I replied, feigning a chuckle. "He's getting married, so what? It's none of your business to feel sorry for him. He's a complete stranger, Little Sister!"

- Oh, stop it, Hai. I know you still love him. You love him so much! Don't hide it from me. I know everything!

I stared intently at Little Sister. She understood me; she spoke as if she could penetrate my heart and know what I was thinking. I wanted to cry so badly! Oh my God! If Little Sister said another word, I would surely sob uncontrollably because she understood me so well; she knew how much I loved Kien. And yet, Kien had left me to marry someone else.

* *

I can't remember the last time I saw Kien, but it must have been a long time. Several times after that, Kien wanted to talk to me, but I refused. Suddenly, Ut Nho became the messenger. Ut Nho said, "I know he truly loves Hai, not just playing around." "How do you know?" I asked. Ut Nho whispered, "He loves Hai so much that's why he's so persistent. If he didn't, he'd be with someone else, not wasting his time stopping me every day asking how Hai was, when Hai was coming to the city..." I laughed, "Men are like that, they forget so quickly!" Ut thought, "How could this neighborhood possibly tie Hai down...?"

Yes, this neighborhood is desolate and stagnant; how could it hold back a girl who loves living in the city, who loves traveling to new horizons? That, I think, is where I belong. Here, I am like a young sprout growing on barren land, like a free bird but still confined to familiar skies.

Little Ut told me, "Hai, you're so selfish! Women like that only make men suffer." I didn't blame Little Ut; hearing her say that, I felt guilty towards Kien. But I still have my own dreams, how can I hold them back when I don't even know if Kien and I will ever be together?

I left. The village was empty. Later, when we talked about it, my youngest daughter still asked me if, if we could go back to that day, would I still be willing to leave the one I loved? I just smiled, not answering. I mumbled something, and my youngest daughter didn't ask again. Surely she couldn't expect me to nod and say I wouldn't make that trade-off when my future was still shrouded in uncertainty? Surely she didn't want me to answer that way. She knew my heart too well. If I said I regretted it, would Kien come back, confess his love, and ask me to marry him, like in the days when we both dreamed so much?

* *

I stood on the riverbank, watching the murky water slowly flow past the village. The water was heading towards Kien's house. Kien's house was at the beginning of the village, and a wedding was in full swing. I reached out and plucked bunches of mustard flowers, crushing them in my palms. It seemed like Little Ut was behind me. Seeing my sadness, Little Ut wasn't as talkative as usual. She sighed and changed the subject.

The north wind is really cold!

I didn't reply, my mind preoccupied with something everyone understood.

- Little Sister! You two are terrible! - I said.

Another gust of north wind blew, chilling me to the bone. Little Ut said to me, "Come on, Hai, don't blame yourself anymore. It's all fate. You have your own dreams, and Kien couldn't wait for you until his youth was over. It's as if you and Kien weren't meant to be together, and even if you were, who's to say you'd stay together until your hair turns gray?"

My youngest daughter's words brought a sense of relief to my heart. Yes, it takes fate and destiny for two people to be together, doesn't it, Út? I doubt Hai could offer Kiên the best things in life as well as someone else. That's what I said.

But the wind kept blowing. The wind blew in from the river, carrying with it the sound of boisterous music. "Wedding procession, wedding procession on the country road. The bride with rosy cheeks goes to her husband's home. Firecracker remnants fly and fall all over the road…" I listened, and my heart ached.

I remember the day I returned from the city, carrying my own broken pieces, and it was also the day Kien went to someone's house with betel nuts and leaves to ask for my hand in marriage. Ut Nho said that Kien had waited for Hai for so long, thinking Hai had become a city dweller, that he got discouraged and left to marry someone else to settle down.

My heart ached. The wounds in my heart felt like salt being rubbed into them. I looked at Little Ut, my eyes welling up. I could only blame myself, who else could I blame… I returned to the village right in the middle of the north wind season. The old north wind season. The season when the mustard flowers bloomed a vibrant yellow by the riverbank. I stood there, lost in thought, gazing towards Kien's house. Out at the river's edge, the water surged, as if the waves were rising within me…

* *

Now Kien is getting married. Kien's wedding is a joyous occasion, filling the peaceful countryside with excitement. It's been a long time since this village has had such a happy wedding. I'm happy for Kien.

The north wind swept across the wide river. I stood on the riverbank, immersed in the golden hues of the mustard flowers, daydreaming of a future that would never come true. In my small, traditionally built Southern Vietnamese house, I would sweep the floor, light the fire to cook rice, stew fish, and wait for Kien to come home. And night after night, in the bright electric light reflecting on the river in front of the house, I would sit and mend Kien's clothes. Each stitch carried a wealth of longing and affection.

The north wind gently swayed the mustard greens, a light breeze that startled me. The sun was up. And it seemed the music had faded. I strolled leisurely towards home. In my ears, I could still hear the faint sound of my mother's worn broom sweeping the leaf-strewn porch. Her shadow was lost in the sunlight. The sunshine this month was enchantingly beautiful.

Hoang Khanh Duy

Source: https://baolongan.vn/mua-bac-thoi-a209222.html