Every time, I look back for a long, long time as if to capture in my sight all the love and gratitude that I have gathered over the long journey. I don’t know why, but every time that unconscious turn of the head makes my heart beat a beat faster. The hesitation. The melancholy. The emotions without scale, without form, without clarity. All of them make me feel love, like longing, like a nameless sadness, like a little bit of happiness of meeting.
Perhaps because habits are always hard to break, I tell myself. And habits, it sounds simple, but those habits are engraved, nurtured by so many emotions, by so many memories. In that small street corner, in that old three-story house, the roof silently fading over the years, the walls covered with moss, it seems to be whispering to me stories full of deep affection and kindness. There, cherishing my naive, innocent steps from the days when I first stepped into life. There, has been my daily place of coming and going for more than twenty years. And also there, I can't count how many late afternoons I've stood on the balcony looking at the row of purple-flowered trees in front, quietly shedding leaves, quietly sprouting, quietly blooming, quietly showing off their colors, while wandering my thoughts about the eternal rhythm of time.
I love that street corner, love the small, humble road, love the purple-flowered Lagerstroemia trees along the road when they are in full bloom, love the shape of the thin, bare branches when they shed their leaves, looking so beautiful and free, waiting for spring to come and bloom with green mountains.
But now, the small street corner, the house darkened by time and the seemingly inanimate row of purple-flowered trees have become a memory full of emptiness. Every time I pass by, I will turn my head to look back. That unconscious turn of my head makes my son compare, old age often puts the past in front, the future behind. Yes, I must not be young anymore, I must be getting old. So, just a passing wind, just a heavy rain, or just a glimpse of a familiar street corner, just a story from not so long ago, my heart suddenly wanders. Like nostalgia. Like sympathy. Like nostalgia. It's not that at this age I'm more thoughtful, "the older the ginger, the spicier it is", but simply that I'm more calm, more composed before the joys, sorrows, changes of the flow of life, like cherishing so much the years of joy and sadness, the years marked with immeasurable, immeasurable affection.
I realized that life contains many small, simple things that when you look into them, you will find peace and familiarity. Like the small street corner and the row of purple-flowered trees that are still quiet all year round, and life, as it should be, still flows endlessly, flows forever. Like the unconscious turn of the head every time I pass by that small street corner, is always the anchor, nurturing so many emotions for me. So many vast, overflowing memories and also nostalgia, love for the old days. So much waiting, hope for these years and the years to come, and even the years after that, filled with unforgettable gratitude.
Every time I look back at the old house, look back at the small road, look back at the row of purple flowers in bloom, look back at a piece of sky, a corner of the street, that is when my heart is beating. Whether I look back slowly for a long time or in a hurry, I have kept the beautiful moments of the sky and of my own heart. Like the row of purple flowers at the corner of the street showing off their dreamy purple color, it is easy to fade over the months and days. Today it is so fragrant, so strong, so fresh, but tomorrow it has faded, has faded. Only the memories and emotions of that row of purple flowers in me are truly lasting, like a scent, like a flower color, forever returning in nostalgia.
So, that small street corner and the seemingly inanimate row of purple-flowered trees will forever become a full and empty memory, forever like a scent, like a flower color returning to me with so much nostalgia. But then, tomorrow, not only that small street corner, that small sky, there will be more places, places that will also go into my memory. No matter what, I still tell myself, after each day there will always be new wind, new sunshine. Only the affection, the memories will never be old. Like that street corner, like that sky, like that row of purple-flowered trees, will always follow me back in my memory to awaken the excitement.
According to NGUYEN PHUC (baokontum.com.vn)
Source: https://baogialai.com.vn/ngoai-nhin-thuong-nho-post325787.html
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