Father's Day

Father's Day - Photo 1.

My parents return day

He was once imprisoned by the French and escaped from prison.

In 1954, he gathered in the North, carrying with him a heart heavy with longing: missing his village, missing the river, missing every beloved person in his hometown.

My father worked in the transportation industry, staying on the most fierce Truong Son route in western Quang Binh .

The road where bombs and bullets screamed all day long and death was always lurking. For him, that journey was a contest of courage and perseverance to contribute to the great cause of the country.

Every time he visited home, my father brought back stories about the roads he had just passed with names like: Da Deo Pass, Xuan Son Ferry, Khe O, Khe Ve, Road 20... and also the trips to receive trucks and goods from the Vietnam - China border onto the route.

I remember very clearly the times my father came home to visit and then hurriedly left. He did not tell his children the usual things like be good, study well, and listen. Instead, he always said: "When you hear the sound of an airplane, run down to the basement quickly, and go back to your hometown alive, okay?"

When I was young, I didn't understand why my father often said that. Only later did I realize that for him, living to return to his homeland was his greatest wish in life.

Once he told me: "I don't know if I can come back this time. When peace comes, you guys try to find your way back home: When you get back to Da Nang , go to Han market and ask for directions to Ha Than ferry,...".

Then in 1973, my father came home to visit, the day after the Paris Agreement was signed, he was very happy. That day, he quietly prepared a backpack, some clothes and some simple personal belongings.

He told my mother: "As soon as Da Nang is liberated, I will return immediately." His eyes lit up, his voice was firm as if he had already planned the return journey in his heart, step by step.

... And then that day came!

The day Da Nang was liberated, at the end of March 1975, my father carried his backpack to Highway 15. He just kept going, walking and waving at army vehicles to ask for a ride at each stop.

It was not an easy task, because at that time the South had not been completely liberated, the situation was very complicated, there were few vehicles, information was fragmented... but my father, with the memory and will of someone who had been through life and death, still found his way back to Ha Than ferry.

Looking at the Han River flowing slowly under the afternoon sun. The river wind blew, carrying the salty smell of the sea, of mud, of childhood. My father was silent, no one saw him cry, but his eyes were red, his mouth whispered: "I'm home", "I can be home".

Setting foot on the east bank, before his eyes was the banyan tree at the entrance of Ha Than market, now much taller, its canopy spreading out to shade a corner of the market.

Without hesitation, he ran straight along the old village road, leading from the ferry to his house, his heart trembling with emotion, his steps quickening, his heart beating fast. When he reached my grandmother's house, he couldn't help but shout, "Mom! Dad! I'm home!"

But only the sound of the wind answered, no one ran out, no one called his name as he had expected. He stood still in the yard as if holding his breath. A neighbor walked over and slowly said: "My grandparents passed away a few months ago..."

His eyes filled with tears, his hands clenched until they trembled, he whispered: "I'm home but it's too late, Mom and Dad!".

Telling stories of peace - Photo 3.

My parents and grandchildren

He went around the neighborhood looking for relatives, meeting my aunts and uncles after many years apart. No one said a word, just tight hugs, silent tears and shocked looks of disbelief that my father had returned alive.

Over the years, the old house was no longer intact, the garden was overgrown. The bamboo grove at the edge of the field had grown all the way to the river bank.

He sat quietly on a mound of earth in the middle of the garden, looking out at the riverbank, listening to the sound of the wind and the waves, smoking a cigarette, taking a deep drag, then looking up at the sparse starry sky and exhaling slowly.

He later recounted: "I have never smoked a cigarette that tasted so good!" A cigarette of peace , smoked in the middle of my homeland after more than 20 years of bombs and bullets separating us.

Perhaps that was the moment when he felt most fully the two words "PEACE", not in documents or news, but in the breath of his homeland, in the rustling sound of bamboo leaves, in the gentle sound of the Han River, in the very unique smell of his homeland.

The news of Saigon's liberation a few days later caused an outpouring of joy. My father was as happy as a child, "It's true unification! It's true peace!", he kept repeating for several days.

A few days later, he went to the North to arrange work and hurriedly brought my mother and the children back to their hometown. The whole family's return trip was like a dream come true.

Later, every time they reunited, he often told the story of his return with never-ending happiness.

For him, that was the day his heart was healed, the day all the longing, separation, and fear disappeared in the scent of his homeland. He often told his children and grandchildren: "I am lucky because the bombs and bullets avoided me. I love my comrades who could not return."

My father passed away on a spring day. The day I saw him off, I passed by the old garden where he had sat smoking a cigarette on the first peaceful night. The wind was still blowing, the sound of the waves from the Han River still gently lapped against the shore. All of that had become memories.

But we know that what he left behind was not only memories, but also a vivid lesson about love for the homeland, about faith and aspiration for peace.

My father's wartime stories have become a part of our sacred memories, told to our children and grandchildren as a reminder of the value of peace for future generations to cherish and preserve.

Thank you to more than 600 readers who submitted their entries to the Peace Storytelling contest.

On the occasion of the 50th anniversary of peace, the Peace Storytelling writing contest ( organized by Tuoi Tre newspaper , accompanied by Vietnam Rubber Group, taking place from March 10 to April 15) allows readers to send in touching, unforgettable stories of each family, each person as well as thoughts about the reunification day of April 30, 1975, about 50 years of peace.

The contest is open to all Vietnamese people at home and abroad, without age or occupation restrictions.

Peace Stories accepts articles of up to 1,200 words in Vietnamese, with accompanying photos and videos, and sent to the email address [email protected]. Articles are only accepted via email, not via post to avoid loss.

Quality entries will be selected to be published on Tuoi Tre products, receive royalties, and the entries that pass the preliminary round will be printed into a book (no royalties paid - no sale). The entries must not have participated in any other writing contest and must not have been published on any media or social networks.

Authors are responsible for the copyright of their articles, photos and videos. They will not accept illustrative photos and videos taken from social networks without copyright. Authors must provide their address, phone number, email, account number, and citizen identification number so that the organizers can contact them and send them royalties or prizes.

Saigon, April 30 and Mom - Photo 2.

As of April 15, the Peace Storytelling writing contest has received more than 600 entries from readers.

Award Ceremony and Book Launch of Peace Stories

The jury, including journalist Nguyen Truong Uy - Deputy Secretary General of Tuoi Tre Newspaper , Dr. Nguyen Thi Hau - Deputy Secretary General of the Vietnam Historical Science Association and Secretary General of the Ho Chi Minh City Historical Association, researcher - writer Nguyen Truong Quy will review and award prizes from the preliminary entries and choose to award prizes to quality entries.

The award ceremony, book launch of Peace Storytelling and special issue of Tuoi Tre newspaper 30-4 are expected to be held at Ho Chi Minh City Book Street at the end of April 2025. The decision of the organizing committee is final.