The guava season is fragrant in my memories

After the rain, the space was fresh and cool, the gentle breeze brought a very familiar scent. The smell of ripe guava touched my soul with sweetness. That was my childhood in the green garden with trees and birdsong very clearly.

My garden has many kinds of trees, big and small trees growing close together, their canopies spread out like they are intertwined to create a green canopy that I love. I often look at the blue sky and white clouds through a small gap, the widest of which is only as wide as a tray or a mat, so all my eyes can see is the color of peace. The guava tree stands by the fence, its canopy extends to the neighbor's garden. The guava tree was probably planted a long time ago, so my grandmother doesn't know its age, she only knows that it is a very delicious peach guava variety.

In season, my garden is filled with a fragrant scent. The scent of ripe guava wafts into the wind, calling the starlings. The ripe yellow guavas on the green leaves have a very unique sweetness. That sweetness is like the tree's accumulation of sunshine, rain and wind, to sink into the peach-colored guava's flesh, a full sweetness, imbued with the scent of the countryside.

She often used a pole to pick guavas. The fragrant yellow guavas falling to the ground made me happy and laugh out loud. When I grew up a little, I liked to climb the guava tree to pick guavas. I often carried a fishing bag over one shoulder and quickly climbed the tree. I liked to sit on a guava branch with the most ripe fruit, reaching out to pick the dark yellow ripe fruit and eat it right there. Oh my, how fragrant the guava smelled, how sweet the guava tasted! It seemed like the flavor of the guava was still at its fullest, not yet taken away by the wind, not yet diluted by the dew.

Then I would bring the guavas down and pick them out into a bamboo basket. The guavas were big and small, with different shades of yellow but they all had an attractive aroma. Mom would often use a knife to cut open the big guavas, and the whole family would gather on the porch to enjoy the taste of the ripe guavas.

There are not many old trees left in the garden now. The guava tree by the fence is too old and broken, it is no longer there. A guava tree I planted in front of the yard has borne fruit for several years but it is not as delicious as the peach guava tree of the past. My grandmother is over ninety years old, she can no longer use a pole to pick guava like before. I have grown up, no longer the mischievous boy who climbed the tree to pick guava. Suddenly I miss the sweet and fragrant peach guava tree by the fence.

Time will change everything, but why do I miss the old days of ripe guava, the innocent and peaceful childhood days...

LE MINH HAI

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