Remembering 2025…

(PLVN) If calculated accurately, in three days from today, each person, as well as all of humanity, will enter a new year. There's a song that says: "What did I do last year? Now it's time to look back and see what the year has passed...". If 2025 were a painting, what would that painting look like?

Thank you 2025 and hello 2026. (Source: Pngtree)

For me, 2025 is…

December in Hanoi has begun to get cold. On those winter afternoons, the sun sets early. Huddled in the chill, I suddenly crave a little ginger-flavored candied fruit, a touch of Hanoi's soul. I stop my motorbike in front of a familiar little candied fruit shop on the street, and find myself gently inhaling the scent of the candied fruit, the scent of time, the scent of those carefree childhood days spent skipping to school. "You're talking about the candied fruit shop run by the teacher, aren't you? I know that one. My mother and the teacher's mother were classmates," said the old woman, the owner of the small candied fruit shop, seemingly finding someone to open up her pages of memories.

"She's from Hang Bac Street, my dear. That street used to be very quiet by dusk. But it was only quiet on the street; inside, every house was bustling with activity because people were working with gold and silver. Anyone who's heard the sound of the goldsmiths' hammers knows it's not loud and aggressive, but soft, gentle, and unhurried, sometimes fast, sometimes quick..."

Hanoi is so different now, isn't it, my dear? I'm old now, but whenever my friends and I meet, we still invite each other to go out at night, because that's when Hanoi is truly Hanoi. The traffic and crowds have given way to the yellow lights shining through the leaves, casting dark shadows on the road. The dust and fumes from the cars have dispersed, allowing the fragrance of magnolia, ylang-ylang, and milk flower to waft in...

The vendor enthusiastically recounts her story, while the buyer stands mesmerized, for opportunities to hear such "fragments of Hanoi's soul" will become rare. When these old-timers of Hanoi, like the woman making candied fruit, are gone, where will the very essence of Hanoi go amidst the hustle and bustle and the smog?

For me, 2025 is…

The sacred events of A50 and A80 serve as a reminder of a generation that dedicated their twenties to the nation. In the early 1970s, many students put aside their studies to go to war. In their backpacks, besides the soldiers' books, there were notebooks, textbooks, and even a few pages of poetry. Their twenties had no graduation ceremonies, no first love, no engineering degrees. Those twenties became one with their motherland.

A generation has fallen so that we may rise again. If the student generation of yesteryear sacrificed their twenties with blood and bones, today's generation continues to dedicate their youth to the Fatherland through intellect, creativity, and aspiration. Every blueprint, every line of code, every invention… are bricks building a strong Vietnam, continuing the dream of national independence and prosperity of our forefathers.

For me, 2025 is…

In 2025, the previous statistics remain unchanged: in Vietnam, the average person reads only 4 books per year, but 2.8 of those are textbooks, and Vietnam is not among the 61 countries with the highest reading rates.

I suddenly remembered reading a book by the Japanese writer Naoki Matayoshi with a very fairytale title, "The Miracles of the Kingdom of Books." The book tells of an old king who loved books very much. Because his eyesight was failing, the king asked two men to travel the world to find people who knew about rare and unusual books, listen to their stories, and then report back to him. A year later they returned. And the king spent thirteen nights listening to their stories about books before he passed away.

During thirteen nights of reading aloud to the king, a wondrous and wondrous world of books unfolded, a world that even the most avid readers and imaginative minds could hardly comprehend. Each story in the books was a glimpse into the experiences of human life, perhaps an allegory, a reflection, or a contemplation on the ways and processes of human existence…

Lifting my head from the book, I reflect on my own life and the lives of those around me. Suddenly, I recall childhood years filled with memories of worn-out comic books. I realize with a jolt that I've repeatedly postponed things with a good book or an old acquaintance, unaware that time never stops or turns back.

Each person's life is a book being written. As long as we are still reading and telling stories, it means we are still living, silently writing our own narratives…

For me, 2025 is…

With numerous natural and social events, 2025 will likely be a difficult year for the whole world. But it doesn't matter, because life is always like water. Water always finds its way. When it encounters a deep abyss, it becomes a stream. When it meets land, it becomes a river. When it meets the sun, it becomes a cloud… As long as it keeps flowing, water will eventually reach the sea, sparkling blue with the light of the hopeful sun.

"No matter what/No matter how things have turned out/Just look back/A smile will still be on my lips/Success, failure/Just a story of the past year/Welcome the new year." Look, someone's music is playing... Thank you 2025 and hello 2026!

Source: https://baophapluat.vn/nho-ve-2025.html