The scent of jujubes is overwhelming.

Life is full of hardships, ups and downs, worries about food, clothing, money, fame, and fortune... but then everyone has moments of quiet reflection, looking back at their lives with all their joys, sorrows, and memories. One evening, returning to his hometown, an elderly man walking along a small, bumpy road suddenly noticed a very fragrant scent emanating from the thicket of leaves behind a hedge. "It's the jasmine!" he exclaimed. Then, like a child, he slowly approached the clump, parted the green branches, picked a pale yellow flower that looked like an earring, brought it to his nose, and softly murmured, "So many years have passed!"

That old man was me. The wild jasmine flower holds so many memories for me! Throughout Central Vietnam, this plant grows abundantly. It's mixed with myrtle and rhododendron flowers, growing in bushes on hillsides and along garden fences. It's a plant that flowers and bears fruit year-round. The ripe fruit has little flesh but is very sweet. Although it's a simple, wild flower growing on hillsides, the wild jasmine has a rather unique fragrance; just put a flower in your pocket, and the intoxicating scent will linger all day.

In my hometown, the dủ dẻ flower is associated with a fairy tale. It tells of a fairy who, long ago, lived in heaven. Once, she was assigned to accompany the Jade Emperor and other gods on their descent to Earth for sightseeing. However, finding the world so beautiful, she left the group to stay and play a little longer. Angered by this, the Jade Emperor ordered the little fairy to be transformed into a dủ dẻ tree, and from then on, this tree has bloomed with fragrant flowers.

We all grew up knowing that fairy tale, and we all loved this flower. I remember when I was little, in the evenings, my friends and I would often go into the bushes to look for the flowers. Our faces would get dirty, and sometimes we'd even get scratched by thorns, but we were all so happy when we picked them. We'd bring the flowers home and put them on our desks to keep them fragrant. We'd also bring them to school to give to our teachers and female classmates.

In my village school back then, there was Quyen, a pretty girl with bright black eyes who always smiled brightly, revealing deep dimples on her cheeks. Quyen loved the jasmine flowers, but her family lived in Song Hamlet, and every day, except when she went to school, she had to stay home to help her mother sell groceries. She didn't have the time like the other kids in Go Hamlet. Quyen cherished every jasmine flower she received as a gift and once told me that when she grew up and had her own house, she would ask me to find jasmine plants on the barren hills to plant around her garden so she could always enjoy the scent of those flowers. I promised to help, but I couldn't keep my promise. In 1965, when the Americans sent troops into South Vietnam, the war intensified. My hometown was constantly ravaged by bombs and bullets. From then on, the students scattered in different directions.

My family and I evacuated to the outskirts of a city, where I grew up. After the country was reunified, I returned to my hometown and learned that Quyen was no longer alive. My old school friend stayed behind, and in 1970 she enlisted in the army, working as a nurse at a military hospital in the jungle. Then, in 1972, while carrying rice and medicine down to a remote area, Quyen was ambushed by the enemy and killed…

This afternoon, holding a pale yellow jasmine flower that resembled an earring, I remembered the old days when I picked a flower just like this, wrapping it in a piece of school paper, waiting to give it to Quyen before going to school. In the afternoon light, the flower in my hand released a sweet, gentle fragrance…

TRAN NINH THO

Source: https://baokhanhhoa.vn/van-hoa/sang-tac/202411/ngat-ngao-mui-huong-du-de-ee62d4a/