The rain pungently smells of menthol balm...

My mother-in-law passed away so suddenly that even now, more than ten years later, we sometimes still feel like she's not gone. We just think she's visiting her younger sister-in-law or Uncle Út for a few days before returning home.

Illustration: DANG HONG QUAN

With only three people in the house, the absence of one person felt incredibly empty and disheartening. It took us a long time to get used to Mom not being home. There was no longer her hunched back, coming and going. The front porch was bare on summer afternoons, with a few neighbors' motorbikes parked there.

There was no one left to sit and relax under the shade of the two trees that formed an arch. The dining table only had two seats facing each other. The middle chair was empty, so my husband took another one and placed it next to it to make a pair. And I blurted out, "Mom and Dad must have reunited." That's what I thought and said, but more than once during meals, both my husband and I felt a pang of sadness.

The initial overwhelming longing for my mother has gradually given way to a quiet, lingering sadness. Even now, during sleepless nights, in the dead of night, I still hear the sound of my mother closing and locking the glass door.

The sound of the lock clicking from a pair of weak, bony hands lacked any sense of decisiveness or confidence. At times, I would hear my mother tearing pages from the calendar, tapping her foot, humming a few familiar tunes…

The rainy season has been here for almost two months now, bringing with it thunderstorms, floods, and tropical depressions. The rain makes me miss my mother even more. I feel the absence of her presence in the small space of our house. I miss the scent of her balm so much, especially when the weather turns cold like this.

My mother-in-law is a big fan of medicine and ointments. She loves every kind of medicine. Whenever my husband buys something for her, she scrutinizes it, rereading every word on the instruction sheet. She also has a lot of ointments. She usually uses Eagle Brand green medicated oil, plus hot oil and liniments for aches and pains in joints…

There were all kinds of oils, with all sorts of uses. Not to mention, my mom remembered the names of everyone who gave them to her. This bottle of oil was from my uncle who went to Thailand, that other bottle was from my sister-in-law, and that other box was a gift from my aunt from Cho Gom market…

She had plenty of herbal oil, but she knew immediately when a jar went missing. If someone in the neighborhood borrowed it and ignored it, she'd pester them until they returned it. As I've said, she was addicted to medicine and loved the oil. She applied it year-round, often more at night, especially during stormy weather. The smell of the oil permeated the entire house, whether in the living room, the kitchen, or upstairs. It was a strong, pungent odor that was sometimes quite unpleasant.

Therefore, it wasn't uncommon for my two younger siblings and I to grumble, "With Mom like this, no wonder she's always so... slow."

Fortunately, my mother's illnesses are not very common. Minor ailments like colds, sore gums from dentures, back pain, and bone aches...

The intense pain was the last thing she experienced during her brief coma before passing away. My mother, out of love for her children and grandchildren, feared she would become paralyzed and that a prolonged illness would cause suffering for the whole family.

My mother is gone, but it seems her scent of oil still lingers. It wafts faintly during dry, sunny days, and becomes intensely pungent and strong whenever the weather changes and it rains. At those times, I suddenly realize how warm and cozy this home feels.

I suddenly felt warm and a thought flashed through my mind: "There are still three people in my house."

Source: https://tuoitre.vn/mua-cay-nong-mui-dau-ma-xuc-20241124103110627.htm