Father was very strict, he taught us how to eat, how to think, how to do things and especially how to take responsibility. He rarely beat us, but every time we made a serious mistake, he would just whip us with a rattan cane and we would remember it for the rest of our lives. The painful whipping was still imprinted on us for days. At that time, in our eyes, father was a terror, we all complained, but as the years passed, when we wished that father could hold a rattan cane and whip our buttocks, it was a luxury. In the last years of his life, father was seriously ill, his sisters came in and out to take care of him day and night. Looking at the rattan cane, the color of time still hanging on the corner of the wall, my younger brother's eyes were red, saying: "If only father could hold the cane and let us be beaten again". But all that remained was "if only"...
I remember the hot summer afternoons when the neighborhood kids invited me to sneak out to play hopscotch, shuttlecock, or climb trees to steal guavas from the neighbors. Many times, while we were arguing, we would hear the sound of our father playing the flute through the treetops, so soft and gentle that it made our hearts ache. We were all absent-mindedly forgetting that we were sneaking out to play, and we ran back, eyes glued to the hole in the wall to listen to that sweet, melodious flute sound. And in a flash, we had all grown up. Time, like a wind, had unintentionally swept us away from the old thatched roof. Now, everyone had their own families, struggling to make ends meet. As for our father, he had returned to the clouds on a drizzling day.
Sometimes, I am shocked because I can no longer clearly remember my father's face, hands, or figure... Because during those difficult years, having a family photo was a luxury. Therefore, when I miss my father, I can only look for the places where he used to be attached. But everything seems to have been covered with a layer of dust by time. The stars change, the years pass by, and the love that is like a thin ray of sunlight in the middle of a rainy day creeps back. Here is the old apricot tree that every spring my father used to call the sisters to pick the leaves from, here is the milk fruit tree that probably looks like my age but still has lush branches and leaves, here are the banana trees (probably through many generations of children and grandchildren) that are green in the middle of a pouring rain day... The front yard and the back alley are covered with moss, but the person's figure is only a memory. I remember the old days when people took care of the green garden, the garden was full of vegetables and fruits. Gourds, squash, and loofahs with fruits hanging from them, grapefruits hanging from the branches, ponds of green water spinach... Every morning with a shoulder pole and two small baskets, my father carried me on one side and vegetables and fruits on the other to the market to sell. He was quite lucky with the market, so before he could finish the market, all the homegrown produce was gone. That memory seemed trivial, but it was something I carried with me forever.
I wandered to the market. The sound of vegetable and fish sellers calling out to each other. The afternoon market was still bustling with buyers and sellers, but why did I feel lost and alienated? It seemed like there was a sad sound passing by. Was I looking for something or just wanted to buy a few coins to remember... to hope to hold on to a little image of my father from years ago. Missing is like a game of hide and seek. When we try to find it, it disappears like a dream in Nam Kha. And I understand, memories are like thieves, time will take everything away. However, there are people who leave forever but their image will still appear in our hearts. One day, we suddenly realize that we can no longer remember their voice, eyes, voice... but the vague, painful feelings deep in our hearts are still there, never fading.
Dad! I am old. In the rain this afternoon, I missed you and cried bitterly like a child. I know that even after many years, even though my memories of you are no longer clear, you will always be with me, because I am the most beautiful link from you and I will save every penny to remember your image forever.
Hello love, season 4, theme "Father" officially launched from December 27, 2024 on four types of press and digital infrastructure of Radio - Television and Binh Phuoc Newspaper (BPTV), promising to bring to the public the wonderful values of sacred and noble fatherly love. |
Source: https://baobinhphuoc.com.vn/news/19/174501/mua-vai-xu-nho
![[Infographic] Circular guiding the functions, tasks and powers of the provincial Department of Culture, Sports and Tourism and the commune-level Department of Culture and Social Affairs](https://vphoto.vietnam.vn/thumb/402x226/vietnam/resource/IMAGE/2025/6/29/877f24989bb946358f33a80e4a4f4ef5)
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