Peaceful summer

(GLO) - I often end an evening by sitting quietly for a few minutes before drifting off to sleep. The soft glow of the night lights provides a soothing backdrop for the lingering thoughts of the day.

I often end an evening by sitting quietly for a few minutes before drifting off to sleep. The soft glow of the night lights provides a soothing backdrop for the lingering thoughts of the day.

June, summer has opened its wide doors. I begin to long for a peaceful summer, secretly grateful for the highland climate that has granted me such a fulfilling season.

Illustration: HUYEN TRANG

The rains have rolled green onto the riverbanks. The brown earth is soaked and moist. The sap of spring or summer flows in the same way, connecting us with thin lines that we may not even be aware of. I no longer know how to describe a summer like the one I'm experiencing. It's beautiful, and also strange to wake up to find my heels slightly cold. The sun is near, but the early morning light is still far away.

I warmed myself with a glass of warm water, looked in the mirror, and waited for a normal smile to return to my lips. The lilies on the small table had already filled the room with their fragrance, as if lifting the veil of night. A night of sobs had just dissolved, trapped in some thought, only to be forgotten.

I wonder who led me into such a summer, especially during those days when I knew I was slowly "sinking." It wasn't the usual feeling I had when I saw my body resemble a tree in a cold, rainy afternoon: sensitive and mysterious at the same time.

At my calmest moments, I realize I'm living days that—just as someone once said—are like a garden where you don't know what to plant, stubbornly refusing to sow old seeds while you haven't yet received new ones. You want to burn away the worn-out things, but the flame on the old candle doesn't know where to ignite. The marks of time keep returning in the nameless stifling atmosphere of "summer turning cold."

After days of living to be recognized, living to prove our worth, living to avoid being left behind, are we tired? It seems I'm misunderstanding myself. On the day I no longer have the strength to prove anything, when all motivations disappear, and even things that once excited me fade away, I see it as a step backward for myself.

A day without goals, plans, intentions, or aspirations. Everything felt disjointed, like a wound lying dormant all day in a dazed silence. But I knew that moment would come sooner or later. And I call it the "summer's drift."

Who knows, one might still find fulfillment in such turbulent times. I don't need to become the best version of myself; I want to live more authentically, true to who I am, the person my parents gave me. Allow myself to be indifferent, untrustworthy, bland, or whatever adjective others might assign to me. Allow myself not to explain or signal for anyone to come closer to comfort me. I want to exist, not for the world outside, but only for myself. To live, to love, to write… it's all like that. I want to be true, for once, for everything.

Like a seed sealed by a layer of mist, only to sprout from the cold silence and inner turmoil, I waited for the initial beginnings to emerge in my heart from such a quiet, uncertain stillness. A time of illness in the middle of the night, a time of absence from the hustle and bustle—there had to be a time like that to give thanks for everything present within me, everything that was most familiar and ordinary.

The summer of this world remains gentle and fresh in some way, as if "I look at the dissipating mist/and see my heart become clear." And I have just realized that people often awaken not while walking on a path bathed in light, but precisely at the moment they gradually sink into darkness, when no one is there to lift them up except themselves.

Source: https://baogialai.com.vn/mua-ha-binh-yen-post327389.html