Hear frogs croaking from the middle of the sky

It turns out that the height of “halfway up the sky” depends on each person’s thinking. My grandmother said that the bamboo top was half way up the sky, but I was sitting on the balcony of the 17th floor, about 50 meters above the ground, so it was no longer half way up the sky. It had to be all the way up in the sky. The accuracy of folk sayings in many ways is not as necessary as that of professionals, but it has accuracy in the way of expression.

The autumn air was permeating the space. The rain was cool. Sitting on the balcony, looking out, I could only see the red lights of the dike, and the river was unmarked. It was so deep that I couldn’t make out anything. The sound of frogs croaking and insects rustling in the cool, rainy night was also very evocative. It had been a long time since I had heard frogs croaking. There were no vehicles, so the croaking was very clear. Were they calling for a mate or were they excited to catch some cool drops of water after hot days? Just imagine that on this side, there was a frog opening its mouth to welcome the rain and then calling, and just a few seconds later, on the other side, another frog responded. “I can hear the sound of frogs right next to my ear,” but I wasn’t startled by any ferry call. I was actively waiting to hear the passionate sound, happily excited, so why would I be startled? I heard that people were going to build a complex on this vacant lot. Those frogs and insects can keep croaking as long as they can, tomorrow this place will be an urban area, there will be no place for them.

I vaguely remember the time in Soc Son. It rained like a flood. My pond overflowed at one point. When the rain stopped, I opened the door and stepped out into the yard and heard a chorus of frogs and insects around the house. During the day, where did they hide? After the rain, they came out as if this was the dark night, this land was their own territory.

I remember in 1965 I dug two trenches in the tea garden. It was common to hear that it had to be done, but no one jumped into them when the American planes that attacked Hai Duong and Hanoi flew very low over my hometown. In 1969, I even made a trench that took a lot of effort. After a few rains, while picking tea, I saw several trenches with water half-full and muddy. I told my mother, and it turned out that she knew that there were frogs falling into each hole. I caught five of them, including two big ones. My mother said that the two big ones were female frogs, the three small ones were male frogs. She advised me to release them because my family did not eat frog meat. I felt sorry, but I heard my mother say: “Let them go. March is the season for frogs to lay eggs. You can sell them for a few cents, but why sell them?” In addition, my mother did not eat catfish, eels, snakehead fish, buffalo meat, and beef, so my brother and I did not eat them like her. Growing up, I found it quite annoying to live in a collective for decades.

Now from the middle of the sky, I hear the frogs croaking again. I miss the old days. Looking down the street, I don't see any cars running. It's midnight. Everyone seems to be fast asleep. I only hear the frogs chirping in the chorus of insects. A drop of rain falls on my face. The moon is fading. It's just past the full moon of July. If I were still alive, seeing me sitting around like this, not sleeping, my mother would probably say, "Go to sleep, staying up all night is bad for people." But today is different. Frogs and toads, keep croaking to your heart's content. It's autumn already.

Source: https://daidoanket.vn/nghe-tieng-ech-keu-tu-lung-chung-gioi-10289280.html