(AI)
For me, autumn is not just a season of the year, but a magical moment where childhood memories curl up and return whenever there's a slight chill in the air, whenever the golden leaves begin to fall scattered across the streets. It's a season of peaceful memories, unhurried, quiet, filled only with simple and tranquil moments, innocent laughter, and joyful games that we enjoyed together throughout the long afternoon.
Back then, every early autumn morning, my friends and I would run outside to play. Autumn was like a tranquil painting, with golden leaves falling slowly, covering the small dirt road. We would hold hands and run along the streets, flying kites or playing jump rope, carefree like children who had never known worry. Perhaps, autumn in my memory is always associated with those outdoor games. On some days, when it rained lightly, we would run outside and play in puddles. Our laughter rang out like ringing bells, lively and without a care in the world. I remember, after those mischievous games, we would all gather under the eaves of the house, listening to Grandma tell stories. Everyone would clamor for the seat closest to her, their eyes shining with anticipation for each word. Grandma was the best storyteller I've ever known. With a warm, gentle voice, she recounted ancient fairy tales, stories of clever rabbits, beautiful fairies, and the wondrous adventures of brave boys. Little Lan sat quietly, her eyes wide as if wanting to devour every word, while Tí sat right beside her, his mouth moving along with each story. All of us children listened eagerly, as if those stories were magic transporting us into the wondrous worlds she had created. That autumn, though there were no magical adventures like in the fairy tales, I always felt like a character in those stories. As the golden sunlight faded, filtering through the leaves, we sat silently under the shade of the trees, talking about the small dreams each of us held in our hearts. A gentle autumn breeze blew, creating the rustling sounds of leaves, like the whispers of nature. We sat together, feeling the breath of autumn, and every time we recall that moment, that peaceful feeling lingers in our hearts.
And what could be more beautiful than gathering with family for a family dinner in the evening? Grandma prepares hearty, simple dishes: bowls of sweet soup, steaming hot sweet potato cakes. The aroma of sweet potatoes and sour pickle soup fills the air, warming everyone's hearts. Every time we eat, I feel a strange warmth, as if autumn has permeated every breath of our family. My friends, each with their own sweet potato cake, secretly sneak a few bites and giggle, prompting Grandma to playfully scold them: "Eat slowly, or you'll be too full to eat the rice!" The whole family gathers, their voices and laughter filling the air. The warm yellow lights illuminate our beloved faces, creating a perfect, beautiful, and peaceful autumn scene.
Now, every time autumn comes, those memories flood back to me. I remember the long days of running and playing, the laughter echoing in the quiet village, the afternoons spent with friends running to the fields and watching the sunset. Each time, we would just sit there, silently gazing at the scenery, with only the rustling of the wind through the golden rice fields and the chirping of birds in the vast open space. I also remember sitting beside my grandmother, listening to her tell stories of a distant past, about memories she cherished as precious gifts of time.
And autumn, for me, has always been a wonderful season. Not because of grand things, but because of the simple and peaceful moments, the place that holds all the sweetness of childhood. The golden leaves, the tranquil afternoons—all are indispensable pieces in the mosaic of childhood memories, weaving a perfect picture that I will never forget.
Linh Chau
Source: https://baolongan.vn/mua-thu-cuon-tron-trong-ky-uc-a200694.html
Comment (0)