The flame never goes out.

Short story: Tang Hoang Phi

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Thien received a text message at three in the morning. His mother had been rushed to the hospital for emergency surgery. He immediately took a bus back to his hometown. The city sky that day was hazy in the early morning mist, and the tall buildings flashed past the bus window. "Why did Mom still choose to stay here?" That question haunted Thien for over twenty years. His mother gently told him, "Because I'm used to living here."

At the provincial hospital, seeing his mother lying motionless with a pale face on the hospital bed, Thien's heart was filled with even more turmoil due to the many things swirling around him. He planned to bring his mother back to the city after the surgery so he could take better care of her.

That afternoon, village head Vu came to visit, his voice filled with emotion: "Teacher, please take care of yourself. The children are waiting for you in class…" Having taught at this remote school in the highlands for decades, Thien's mother had become an indispensable part of the village. When village head Vu said that, a subtle sadness lingered in her eyes as she looked at Thien.

That night, in the hospital, Thien couldn't sleep. He looked at his mother and thought about her love for teaching, a flame that had warmed her soul and the hearts of so many children in his remote hometown for so many years. But his mother's health wasn't what it used to be. How could he reassure her and help her focus on her treatment? The doctor said that a patient's mental state is very important. If the mind isn't at peace, the body won't be.

After much deliberation, he said, "Mom, I'll go back to the village to teach in your place." His mother held his hand: "No, what about your job and your students?" "I'll ask the school where I teach to temporarily arrange for me to go back to the village to teach in your place until you recover. I'll do my best." Thien smiled confidently.

***

When Thien went to school in the village in place of his mother, he saw his mother's students waiting on the porch, their eyes wide with anticipation. In the days that followed, Thien woke up to the sound of roosters crowing, watched the mist envelop the mountains and forests, and then prepared his lessons. Without the honking of cars, his soul felt unusually peaceful. The simple meals shared with his boarding students from far away made him feel warm and cozy. In the evenings, he sat under a fig tree grading papers while his students played in the distance. At night, he gazed at the star-filled sky. In the village, he enjoyed deep sleep, immersed in the atmosphere of the mountains and forests.

Despite his busy schedule, he would visit the school and meet his mother's students, but he had never understood his mother's work as much as he did now. He saw a reflection of himself many years ago in each of the little students. Some had to walk for an hour to class, even on slippery, muddy roads. Some brought leftover rice to eat to stave off hunger. Regardless of their circumstances, their eyes were clear, and their smiles were bright in the sunshine. And Thien felt even more love for the profession he was following in his mother's footsteps.

That weekend, Thien went to the city to visit his mother. His mother had just recovered from a serious illness, so she was still frail. Even so, her eyes lit up with joy when Thien told her about his students' studies and the peaceful moments in their village.

Life seemed peaceful like that. But a month after the surgery, his mother's illness relapsed. This time it was much worse. Thien received a phone call from the hospital and rushed to the city that night. His mother lay in her hospital bed, clutching her son's hand, too weak to give any instructions. Thien leaned down and whispered to his mother, "I'll continue teaching in the village, okay, Mom?"

***

The funeral was held in the village. Everyone in the village came. His mother's students, from adults to schoolchildren, sat around the coffin, recounting stories of their teacher's love for her students amidst sobs. Thien stood beside the coffin. He couldn't cry. The pain was too great, bottled up somewhere in Thien's chest, with no way out.

After the funeral, Thien sorted through his mother's belongings. An old wooden box contained photos, letters, and a diary. Thien tremblingly opened it.

“...Today, an orphaned child named Thien was brought to the village. His parents died in a traffic accident. He is only five years old, his eyes red and swollen, but he didn't cry. Looking at him, I saw myself from the past. I decided to take him in, even though I knew I was poor. I remember how Mr. Tuan took me in, taught me to read and write, and gave me a home full of love. He passed away when I was eighteen. Now, looking at Thien, I want to do for him what Mr. Tuan did for me.”

Thien stopped reading and seemed to stop breathing. The years he thought he understood everything about his life turned out to be only a thin layer. He turned to another page, his hands trembling.

"...My students gave me flowers. Wild flowers picked from the edge of the forest, but I was so happy I cried. They also made cards, writing, 'Teacher, I love you.'"

“...Thien graduated from university, but I was too sick to attend the ceremony. He sent me a photo of himself in his graduation gown. I sat alone in this house, looking at the picture and crying. He's grown up. He'll have a bright future. He always asks me why I don't come back to the city with him. But how can I explain it? Here, I find meaning. I see his father, Tuan, in each child. I see myself in Thien. I hope that one day, Thien will understand...”

Thien hugged the diary to his chest. Then he cried. He cried because he now understood, but his mother was no longer here.

***

Thien requested to be officially assigned to teach at the school where his mother had worked for decades. The classroom was still the same small room, now with a picture of his mother smiling with her students hanging on the wall. The day he finished his work in the city and taught his first class after his mother's funeral, a young student asked him, "Teacher, will you be teaching here forever?" Thien smiled gently, patted the child's head, and looked out the window at the vast, lush green mountains and the sky filled with shimmering sunlight. "Yes, I will be here watching you grow up healthy, learn to read and write, learn many wonderful things, so that you can go to bigger schools and learn so much more..."

Source: https://baocantho.com.vn/ngon-lua-khong-tat-a193672.html