In the first few days of my hospitalization, I was almost delirious with constant fevers and required intravenous fluids. Even in my delirium, I could still sense my father's tall, sturdy figure beside me. My hand was nestled in his somewhat calloused hand, but it was in those hands that I felt the warmth radiating, giving me motivation and encouragement to recover quickly.
My father is forty-three years old this year and works as a long-distance truck driver. His job almost always requires him to stay up all night on the road and face many dangers. He's a man of few words, calm and composed, a personality perfectly suited to the caution required of a truck driver. Because the whole family was sick, he took time off from work to be in the hospital taking care of me day and night.
My father wasn't a good cook, so every time he served me porridge, he'd just smile and say, "My dear daughter, try to eat the porridge I made so you'll get better soon! I know it's not as delicious as your mother's. I'll try to learn more to improve my cooking skills..." That's just how he was; he never used flowery words, but through the way he cared for me, through the hollows in his eyes from sleepless nights, I could feel how much he worried about me.
There were nights when I woke up to find Dad lying on the folding bed, hastily pulling his jacket over himself, his breathing labored. At those times, I felt so much love for him. Normally, Dad was a man of few words, but when I was sick, he would tell me so many stories to cheer me up. He said that listening to stories was a way to boost my spirits and help me fight off illness faster. Then, when he rushed out to buy IV needles and medicine as prescribed by the doctor, returning to the room with a flushed face and sweat dripping down his temples, I felt even more deeply the immense love he had for me and my sister, a love that cannot be measured.
Although my father's job was driving, which had little to do with reading and books, he was passionate about reading whenever he had free time. That passion was passed on to me. I remember during my elementary school years, whenever he saw a book suitable for my age, he would buy it for me at the bookstore near our house.
My father knew the names of many books and it was he who introduced me to the works of writer Nguyen Nhat Anh. He said he was a writer for us students. “Reading Nguyen Nhat Anh’s works, you will discover many interesting things about life and people.” My father’s introduction sparked my curiosity, and I fell in love with his works without even realizing it. Now, in 10th grade, my “collection” is quite extensive, filled with stories I tell my classmates, because they also love literature like me. To have this impressive “repertoire” that my friends admire, I must mention the person who “ignited” my love of reading – my father, the strongest and most reserved man in the family.
Sometimes, my mother would tease my father for not knowing how to joke, but I didn't think so. Even though he was very tired after work, whenever my younger sister wanted him to carry her on his back or play tag in the yard, he would always indulge her and always lose, because he could never catch her. He was always patient enough to sit and listen to her talk about school. She would often tell me about how many of her friends were picked up from school by their fathers, while she only got picked up occasionally. At those times, I had to explain to her that my father's job often kept him away from home, so he couldn't pick her up every day.
After hearing me tell her how hard her father's job was, she hugged him and whispered, "I love you so much, Dad!" Hearing her say that, I saw the joy and happiness in her father's eyes, and that joy spread to me, because I knew she loved him as much as I love the "strongest" person in the family.
Perhaps many of my friends are proud to have fathers who hold respected positions in society, such as police officers, directors, or department heads, while my father is just a driver. But whenever I talk about my father, I still feel a surge of pride, along with a touch of arrogance and self-respect. Because for me, my father is the safe haven that my mother and I rely on whenever we face difficulties and challenges.
To me, my father has always been a strong man. He nurtured and inspired me, keeping me steadfast in my love for literature through the subject of Vietnamese Language and Literature, which I adore. I thank you, Dad, because thanks to you, I understand, love, and discover even more how rich and beautiful our Vietnamese language truly is.
Hello, dear viewers! Season 4, themed "Father," officially launches on December 27, 2024, across four media platforms and digital infrastructures of Binh Phuoc Radio and Television and Newspaper (BPTV), promising to bring to the public the wonderful values of sacred and beautiful fatherly love. |
Source: https://baobinhphuoc.com.vn/news/19/171308/nguoi-truyen-lua-trong-toi
Comment (0)