Six years have passed since Phong, Thanh's husband, was killed in action, and it seems that every Independence Day feels stiflingly hot, causing flushed cheeks and teary eyes, with only the occasional, isolated chirping of forest birds. In this mountainous, border region, only the ancient, silent trees can withstand such a chilling, desolate silence.
***
Thanh lives with Mrs. Tinh, a war veteran whose husband was also a fallen soldier. Throughout the war against the Americans, she followed him as a volunteer youth. When peace was restored and victory was imminent, she was the only one left to follow him home. He died in a battle pursuing remnants of the enemy army.
Initially, Thanh only wanted to stay temporarily to get through her crisis, but then the lonely bird found a safe haven. Mrs. Tinh took pity on Thanh, the way one takes pity on their own youth in another's body, and so she became like a daughter in the house, staying there ever since.
Painting by artist Vu Trong Anh.
Outside, a light drizzle suddenly fell. The chill from the old forest abruptly seeped through the plum trees, stinging her collar. Thanh shivered slightly. The weather in the mountains during the transitional season was unpredictable and unpleasant.
- This year's Independence Day will probably have heavy rain, won't it, Grandma? Independence is necessary for peace, isn't it?... The weather has been so strange lately. It's scorching hot one moment, then suddenly it rains heavily. It's always muggy, then unseasonal rain, then hot and sunny again... I don't know if that's good or bad... It's so boring if the New Year is like this, isn't it, Grandma?...
Thanh called out from inside the house. Mrs. Tinh was wiping down the oil lamps on the altar. The familiar, pungent smell wafted into her nose. She nodded softly, her hands still moving quickly. She had carefully wiped the only photograph of her husband and the certificate of recognition from the nation with a dry cloth.
Thanh let a few words drift into the wind: "Independence Day is almost here, reaching the edge of the village. In two or three more days, it'll be right on the plum blossom branches, won't it, Grandma?"
Previously, Thanh worked as an employee at a medicinal herb station. Then the company reorganized its structure, and the work the station had been doing for a long time was handed over to private businesses. Thanh lost her job, but it was as if she didn't lose it at all, because whenever she had free time, she would go into the forest to gather herbs, process them, and sell them.
Her degree in traditional medicine wasn't completely useless. It provided her with some income and eased Mrs. Tinh's aching knees on days when the weather changed. But it couldn't cure the agonizing loneliness that gripped her chest.
Thanh enjoys gathering medicinal herbs because she loves the mountains, forests, and streams of her homeland, with their endless stretches of lush green. Occasionally, she encounters border guards on patrol.
Over time, she got to know a few people. They were friendly and kind, which made her miss Phong even more—the soldier who had died while apprehending drug criminals. Since Phong's death, she had stayed in this place, not wanting to go anywhere, vaguely worried as if Phong would be left alone if she returned to the lowlands.
***
Tuan placed the bag on the wooden table. As soon as he saw Thanh, Tuan's eyes lit up like fire. He looked at Mrs. Tinh and smiled kindly: "It's almost the anniversary of the old man's death, isn't it? Have you and your granddaughter prepared anything yet?"
"Well, it's almost ready, officer," Mrs. Tinh replied kindly. "If only the rain would stop, the plum tree in front of the house would have time to bloom, adding more color to this Independence Day celebration, making it even more complete."
Tuan nodded. Then he turned to Thanh and brought up the topic: "Is your leg feeling better? When you're gathering herbs, don't be too reckless and disregard the dangers."
Thanh forced a smile, instinctively rubbing her still slightly aching leg. She'd fallen down the slope the day before, luckily Tuan was patrolling nearby and managed to help her up and carry her medicine. Otherwise, she wouldn't have known who to call for help.
Mrs. Tinh busied herself brewing hot tea. Tuan scratched his head, then fumbled around and pulled out a box of massage balm, placing it on the table: "This will help relieve the pain. Take it and use it."
Thanh pursed her lips, intending to refuse, but the words wouldn't come out. Her heart suddenly stopped for a moment. Tuan glanced at Mrs. Tinh, quickly thrust the box of ointment into Thanh's hand, then grabbed his pith helmet and briefcase and stood up: "I'm going home now. The rain has stopped."
"Oh dear, aren't you staying for dinner with Grandma?" Mrs. Tinh hurried over and gently took Tuan's hand.
He glanced quickly at Thanh, then looked at Mrs. Tinh, and smiled hesitantly: "Let's do it another day, I still have to go to the middle hamlet to deliver letters for the villagers."
Mrs. Tinh nodded slowly. Tuan's back was silhouetted against the setting sun, gradually disappearing behind the dry bamboo fence. Thanh watched him go. The plum tree drooped after the rain. A few small sparrows chirped and perched on the branches. The flower buds were still tightly closed, but they sparkled more brightly under the cleansing touch of the earth and sky.
***
Boom…
A sudden, sharp, resounding explosion ripped through the mountainside. Water gushed out like a giant tornado, toppling the forest trees. A mass of muddy, slimy earth and rocks cascaded down like a waterfall. The entire village shook as if its houses were being moved; many, their vision blurred, cried out incoherently.
"Run!!!" someone shouted. Those who were still conscious rushed towards the nearby hill. The raging floodwaters surged through the village, sweeping everything in their path, even the ancient trees were twisted like wilted vegetables; the torrents churned and tossed everything into the air. The cries and screams soon died down as everyone was desperate to escape.
Thanh was startled; her first instinct was to rush back into the house, helping Mrs. Tinh walk quickly towards the flat, high hills at the edge of the village. She didn't have time to grab anything, not even the old man's memorial picture. Everything happened so fast. Mrs. Tinh groaned as she walked. Thanh helped her along with only one thought in mind—the flash flood—to get to higher ground.
Mrs. Tinh, who had war wounds, developed a fever that night. She shivered uncontrollably, her body burning with heat. It must have been from the rain, Thanh thought worriedly as she wiped the sweat from her mother's forehead with her shirt. The feeling of surviving such a devastating natural disaster filled her with unease. Mrs. Tinh gradually regained consciousness, struggling to sit up, squinting as she looked around:
- How long has it been, Thanh?
- It could be a few hours, ma'am, or maybe just a few minutes. Everything happened so quickly!
Mrs. Tinh's soft "uh" was heart-wrenching. The pattering rain made everyone feel as if they were being tortured. Some anxious people rushed down the mountain. Others sat motionless, tears silently flowing like an unstopped faucet. In some families, everyone huddled together for warmth.
Those who were missing loved ones paced back and forth, half wanting to run down to find them but fearing the flood would sweep them away. Mrs. Tinh and Thanh sat leaning against each other beside an ancient tree. They held hands tightly. Occasionally, Mrs. Tinh coughed hoarsely.
- I don't know what happened to the old man's memorial picture. That's the only photo she has left to remember him by.
He won't blame her. He just wants her to live in his place during peacetime.
Thanh spoke softly, trying to comfort him. She thought of Phong, who always said he would protect the country so that Thanh could live in peace. Tuan too... Thanh suddenly pursed her lips. She looked towards the pitch-black night at the foot of the mountain. She wondered how Tuan was doing.
The rain intensified. Everyone huddled together for warmth. A few hungry children whimpered. Mrs. Tinh had dozed off. Thanh sat slumped over, her eyes dry. She didn't dare close her eyes for even a moment. The haunting memory clung to her with every breath.
After an unknown amount of time, Mrs. Tinh woke up and fell asleep several times as dawn broke. The murmurs of people reached them. Thanh rubbed her blurry eyes. She supported Mrs. Tinh with both hands. A few people bravely went down the mountain to check the situation.
Painting by artist Truong Dinh Dung.
The sky gradually brightened. Everyone was starving, their lips parched with thirst. They decided to descend the mountain to investigate. The whole group huddled together, just as they had climbed up. Mrs. Tinh gritted her teeth, suppressing the dizziness. Before her eyes, it seemed as if plumes of gray smoke were rising. There was no longer the sound of the waterfall. The magnificent waterfall had disappeared. The upstream area seemed even more vast, the water murky and still flowing fiercely.
Nevertheless, they managed to catch a glimpse of figures in green uniforms transferring goods from the boats to the shore. All the survivors shouted with joy: "The soldiers! The soldiers are back! We're alive!"
Some people shouted and ran towards the soldiers. The flood had passed. Since early morning, village officials had been wading through the mud to assess the situation. Half the village didn't have time to escape.
Thanh's village was luckier; the mudslide only destroyed a few old houses, while the sturdy ones were only tilted and leaning; the mud and foliage still reached knee-deep. Sitting on a large rock beside her house, Mrs. Tinh mumbled, "It must be the old man's blessing. Years ago, when he spoke of his future dreams, he always wanted his house to be nestled against the mountain."
Oh my God! A heart-wrenching scream echoed through the village. Far away, amidst the rubble, a woman knelt, trying to wipe the mud from her husband's face. Just last night they had gazed at each other affectionately, but now half their bodies were buried deep in thick mud. The man lay dead, his eyes wide open, his hand still clutching his daughter's wildflower-shaped hair tie.
Beside her, Thanh saw Tuan. His body was covered in mud, his arms cradling a small, mud-covered figure whose face was barely visible, only its two braids swaying. Everyone fell silent. Only the woman's weeping could be heard.
Tuan glanced at Thanh. They faced each other for a moment, as if countless words were exchanged. She saw Tuan mouth the words "take care," then quickly get back to his rescue work.
***
Everything, even the sorrows, must eventually pass. A new classroom has sprung up on the hill next to the field hospital built by the soldiers. Not far away is the encampment of police officers who have been assigned to assist the people. The wind blows through the village again, and the river water flows slowly downstream.
The whole village quietly helped each other. Those whose houses had collapsed sought refuge in other, still-standing houses while waiting for the soldiers to help rebuild. The relief teams that came to visit, share, and encourage gradually left. The lingering scent of incense filled the village with a somber silence. But then the sun returned, its rays gently caressing the plum branches. Independence Day.
Thanh sat on the porch, occasionally glancing out at the street. Fortunately, the house and the plum tree in front of the yard, despite being propped up and secured, could still be considered relatively intact.
Thanh gazed into the distance, as if intently observing something, yet also as if seeing nothing at all. The plum tree rustled its leaves. She suddenly remembered Tuan. They hadn't seen each other since that day. It was probably the same as every year; around this time, he was probably out wishing everyone in the village a Happy Independence Day. Starting early in the morning from the far end of the village in the valley, he probably wouldn't get here until after noon. It was always the same every year.
This year it will probably be later because the villagers there suffered so much damage. The soldiers had to participate in persuading the villagers to move to a new, higher, flatter, and safer village. In addition, they also discussed planting more trees. Since then, Tuan hasn't had any time to rest.
The sun was setting. At the dinner table, Mrs. Tinh picked up a piece of fish for Thanh. She sighed: "I know you still remember your ex. But it's been more than six years. I'm sure you understand Tuan's intentions... Say something."
Thanh hesitated: "I understand what you mean, Grandma. But, I'm scared."
Mrs. Tinh stroked Thanh's hair, speaking softly: "I know, I know everything. But does that mean you're afraid to eat fish just because you once choked on a bone? Tuan will be different from Phong. He'll live his life with you until he grows old. Trust me…"
Thanh threw herself into Mrs. Tinh's arms and burst into tears like a child.
The chilly mountain air, even at midday, still stung Thanh's arms, sending shivers down her spine. She lifted her head from Mrs. Tinh's embrace, squinting at the clusters of pure white plum blossoms on the veranda. They had bloomed. They stretched themselves from the cold, awakening in the small courtyard in the new sunlight.
This year, the plum blossoms are in full bloom for Independence Day, and in a month's time, they'll be laden with fruit. These small, resilient plum trees burst into bloom amidst the harsh weather of the border region. She smiled, suddenly thinking of sprouting and growth.
Source: https://baogialai.com.vn/mua-man-tet-doc-lap-post565457.html
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