Father was very strict; he taught us everything from eating habits and ways of thinking to how to work, and especially how to take responsibility. He rarely beat us, but whenever we made a serious mistake, a single whip lash of the rattan cane was enough to make us sisters tremble and remember the lesson for life. The pain lingered for days afterward. At that time, in our eyes, Father was a source of terror; we all grumbled and resented him. But as the years passed, even the wish for him to hold the rattan cane and whip us on the bottom became a luxury. In his final years, he was seriously ill, and we sisters cared for him day and night. Looking at the time-worn rattan cane still hanging on the wall, my younger brother's eyes welled up with tears as he said, "If only Father could hold the cane and give us another beating." But all that remains is "if only"...
I remember those scorching summer afternoons, when the neighborhood kids would sneak out to play hopscotch, stick games, or climb trees to steal guavas from the neighbor's yard. Often, while we were arguing loudly, we'd hear my father's flute playing softly through the trees, a melodious, enchanting tune. We'd forget we were sneaking out to play, and rush back, pressing our eyes against the holes in the wall to listen intently to that sweet, melodious flute melody. And yet, in the blink of an eye, we've all grown up. Time, like a relentless wind, has swept us away from our old thatched house. Now, everyone has their own family, struggling with the necessities of life. And my father passed away on a rainy day.
Sometimes, I'm startled because I can no longer clearly remember my father's face, his hands, his figure... Because during those difficult years, having a family photo was a luxury. So when I miss my father, I only know to return to the places he used to be. But everything seems to have been covered in a layer of dust by time. Things change, years fly by, and the love, stained like a thin ray of sunlight on a rainy day, subtly reappears. Here is the old apricot tree where every spring my father used to help my sisters and me pick the leaves; here is the sapodilla tree, still lush with branches and leaves, which I'm sure has seen through many generations; here are the banana trees (surely passed down through many generations) verdant green amidst the pouring rain... The front yard and back alley are covered in moss, but the figure of my father is only a memory. I remember the old days, when he carefully tended the garden, which was lush and full of fruits and vegetables. Gourds, pumpkins, and loofahs hung heavy with fruit, pomelos laden on the branches, and the pond was a vibrant green with water spinach... Every morning, with his carrying pole and two small baskets, my father would carry me on one side and vegetables and fruits on the other to sell at the market. He seemed quite fortunate at the market, because before he even finished shopping, all the produce from our garden was gone. That memory, though seemingly insignificant, is something I will cherish and remember for the rest of my life.
I wandered aimlessly to the market. The vegetable and fish vendors' voices blared, calling out their wares. The afternoon market was still bustling with buyers and sellers, but somehow I felt lost and alienated. It was as if a deep sadness drifted through me. Was I searching for something, or simply wanting to buy a few pennies of remembrance… hoping to cling to a little image of my father from years ago? Memories are like a game of hide-and-seek. When we try to find them, they vanish like a fleeting dream. And I understand that memories are like thieves; time will take everything away. However, some people leave forever, but their image remains vivid in our hearts. One day, we suddenly realize we can no longer remember their voice, their eyes, their tone… yet those vague, poignant feelings deep within our hearts remain, never fading.
Father! I'm getting old. In the rain this afternoon, I miss you and burst into tears like a child. I know that, no matter how many years pass, no matter how vivid my memories of you are, you will always be with me, because I am the most beautiful link between you and me, and I will cherish every memory to engrave your image in my heart forever.
Hello, dear viewers! Season 4, themed "Father," officially launches on December 27, 2024, across four media platforms and digital infrastructures of Binh Phuoc Radio and Television and Newspaper (BPTV), promising to bring to the public the wonderful values of sacred and beautiful fatherly love. |
Source: https://baobinhphuoc.com.vn/news/19/174501/mua-vai-xu-nho
![[Photo] Young people in Da Nang radiate the spirit of spring in traditional ao dai dresses.](/_next/image?url=https%3A%2F%2Fvphoto.vietnam.vn%2Fthumb%2F1200x675%2Fvietnam%2Fresource%2FIMAGE%2F2026%2F02%2F05%2F1770283565383_ndo_br_d7fd33c1bcc2329c6bd3-3439-jpg.webp&w=3840&q=75)
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