Remember the blue smoke of the afternoon

The blue smoke of the afternoon is not only a “specialty” of wood stoves and straw stoves; it is also a part of the soul of the countryside, something that evokes a pure memory. In the late afternoons, when the sunlight has stopped shining, it is the time when each village kitchen begins to smoke. The smoke drifts through the squash and gourd trellises in the garden, wraps around the areca and coconut trees, then disappears into the sunset. Adults are busy lighting the stove and cooking rice. We children run around and play, inhaling the pungent smell of smoke mixed with the smell of new rice and vegetable soup boiling in the pot. The smell of smoke mixed together does not sting the eyes, but only makes people feel warmer.

My childhood was associated with the small thatched-roof kitchen. There, my mother would light a fire with dry straw and rotten wood every day. She would sit by the stove, fanning the fire while picking vegetables and telling stories of the past. The red firelight reflected on her sunburned face, her eyes shining with gentle light. Sometimes, she would blow on the fire with a bamboo tube, making a dull "phù phù" sound that blended with the wind in the garden. I would sit next to her, quietly listening to the crackling sound of the coals, feeling strangely peaceful.

It was in that rustic space that I grew up, learning the first lessons of my life from my mother: knowing how to respect elders, knowing how to be patient, knowing how to appreciate every grain of rice, every drop of sweat. At every meal by the fire, my mother always told me: "Rice is a pearl from heaven, do not waste it." Those simple words have followed me throughout my journey of growing up.

The blue smoke in the afternoon also reminds me of the rainy season. Every time it rains, the whole family gathers in the warm kitchen, my mother boils a pot of sweet potatoes, or a pot of corn. The smoke billows, the heat spreads, dispelling the cold outside, and suddenly I see how simple happiness is: a warm kitchen, a roof with my parents, with laughter spreading amidst the aroma of home-cooked dishes.

Growing up and moving away, the blue smoke of the afternoon became something I was always looking for. In the city, without thatched roofs, I suddenly felt a part of my memories were missing. When I came home late from work, looking at the brightly lit tall buildings, I longed for the feeling of seeing the smoke of the afternoon slowly rising from the kitchen, as a reminder: “It’s time to go home”.

Once, on a business trip to the countryside of Song Ray, Dong Nai province, when the car just turned into a small road, I suddenly caught sight of a blue smoke drifting across the bamboo grove. For some reason, my nose felt a little stinging. So many memories suddenly came flooding back, everything was clear as if it had happened yesterday. Such a simple thing but enough to make my heart flutter all afternoon.

The blue smoke of the afternoon, seemingly faint and fragile, is what anchors each person’s soul. It is a witness to peaceful days at home, an embodiment of love, of family ties, of simple yet profound traditional values.

In the hustle and bustle of modern life, when everything changes so rapidly, there are simple things like the blue smoke in the afternoon that still quietly exist, protecting and reminding me of my roots. So that every time I feel tired, I have a place to return to - not a faraway place, but the old kitchen, the blue smoke in the afternoon, the warm embrace of my parents, the home-cooked meals with the fragrant smell of new rice. That simple thing, to me, is a whole sky of memories.

Starting from September 7, 2020, Dong Nai Online Newspaper opens the column "Simple things".
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Tea Pot

Source: https://baodongnai.com.vn/van-hoa/dieu-gian-di/202508/nho-khoi-lam-chieu-113306f/