The scent of peace

My mornings usually begin with a few small things, enough to bring peace to my heart throughout the day. I carry the small potted plant from the corner of the tea table to the backyard, letting it bask in the rare sunshine and breeze. It's a rather lush mint plant, with many fresh, cool leaves that release a refreshing scent whenever touched. That essential oil scent reminds me of the old days, when my mother used to make a cup of mint tea for my father, and I would mischievously pick a few leaves because I heard chewing them would freshen my breath, only to immediately grimace at the bitter taste…

Illustration: HOANG DANG

Afterward, I watered the two portulaca bushes on the porch, reusing the soil and pots from the recent Tet flowers. The portulaca bloomed brilliantly in the mid-morning, then closed up in the afternoon. I like the way the flowers patiently repeat their small life cycle, as if reminding me that, no matter what, it's time to bloom on time, time to rest, and to be at peace with what it has…

I truly love the feeling of slicing a lemon, crushing a few stalks of lemongrass or ginger in my familiar kitchen. As the knife glides over the peel, the aroma spreads, warm, comforting, and deeply touching my memories. I remember my childhood, when my mother would make me a glass of lemonade, a perfect balance of sour and sweet, and gently say, "Drink it, my child, don't worry about anything." Now that I'm older, no one reminds me anymore, but every time I cook something with ginger and lemon, I still feel a sense of peace, as if a loved one's hand is gently caressing me.

Every late afternoon, the rooftop garden holds its special moment, with its few potted plants of lush green leaves. I'm captivated by the natural scents of the leaves as I gently touch them. The aromas of lemon leaves, rosemary, basil, dill... blend together, subtle yet powerful enough to soothe the long day. Once, my husband's lung disease relapsed, causing him to cough a lot at night and feel very tired. I diligently picked handfuls of perilla leaves, washed them thoroughly, and gave them to him to eat with coarse salt. During those days, the distinctive scent of perilla leaves helped our family alleviate the stress and anxiety about his illness.

At night, if I change the bedsheets, I'll tuck a few pandan leaves into the corner of my pillow. That subtle fragrance makes it easier to fall asleep. I remember my grandmother used to do the same. She said, "Sleeping next to a pleasant scent will make you feel more at peace when you wake up."

A friend of mine once shared that she adores the smell of milk, baby powder, and even the smell of her child's urine in her bedroom. "Everyone says babies smell awful, but for me, it's the smell of peace." She recounted that some nights, just pulling back the blanket and smelling the lingering scent of milk on her child's hair would melt her heart, making her feel like the whole world had shrunk into that tiny embrace. "When they grow up, I'll definitely miss this smell..."

Another friend said that for her, peace was the smell of smoke from the kitchen fire in the afternoon, when her mother lit the fire to cook rice. She had lived in the city for many years; her small, tidy kitchen was rarely used for cooking. Yet, every time she returned to her hometown, as soon as she stepped through the gate, she felt tears welling up at the faint scent of burning wood, mixed with the aroma of braised fish and water spinach soup. She slowed down, inhaling deeply: "I don't know why, but hearing those smells suddenly calms my heart, as if I had never left this place..."

For me, peace is also the smell of my husband's shirts when I iron them. No matter what fabric softener I use, the shirt still retains a unique scent when it touches the iron, both familiar and hard to name. It's a combination of heat, fabric, a touch of sunshine and breeze; that feeling is as close as a reminder: "Like a fish accustomed to its tank, a husband and wife are accustomed to each other's presence." Perhaps during the day, my husband and I are both busy with our own concerns. But when I neatly fold his shirts in the closet, I always feel like I belong to this home, a place filled with simple yet deeply cherished things.

Believe it or not, peace also has a scent! It's the scent of small, familiar things that we rarely notice, yet they subtly permeate our lives, gently soothing our souls.

Source: https://baodanang.vn/channel/5433/202505/mui-cua-binh-an-4006282/