In the early 90s, my hometown had frequent power outages every summer. My parents had gone through decades without electricity and were very familiar with the harsh heat, but we children seemed to be unfamiliar with it, always feeling uncomfortable. Although I always took a cool bath before meals, after eating I felt hot and sweaty. After a while, I went to the well yard to pull up the bucket and bathe again. The summer heat in my hometown was extremely terrible, you had to see it with your own eyes and experience it to be able to imagine it. I thought that at night, the sun would gradually set and the heat would lessen, but as the night went on, the Lao wind blew even harder, causing the heat to increase exponentially, and my hometown suffered from the harshness of natural disasters.
My parents used all their strength with bamboo fans and areca palm leaf fans to fan the two of us. While fanning, they had to chase away the mosquitoes, otherwise they would bite us until our limbs were red and itchy. After fanning until our arms were tired, my parents would lie down on the mat to rest. The whole family lay down and looked up at the pitch-black sky, filled with small twinkling stars. My father showed me where the Milky Way was, where the Evening Star and Morning Star were... My world at that time was so beautiful, so magical when I received knowledge from my parents. My parents also gently told me fairy tales like a precious treasure.
My house was next to a field, behind it was a hill planted with eucalyptus trees. My parents' voices mingled with the chirping of frogs. Especially the loud croaking of the grasshoppers, which sometimes scared me. The chirping of crickets, I didn't know if they were grazing on young grass or drinking the night dew. Every now and then I heard my parents discussing whether they should pick some ripe mangoes tomorrow so that the birds wouldn't eat them and it would be a waste. Then there were plans to harvest the rice fields that were ripe first, to borrow or exchange labor with this family or that family.
Summer nights in the countryside are more fun when the footsteps of the neighbors come to visit. Dad quickly puts in a bamboo bed to make room for them to sit. Mom works hard in the kitchen to light a fire and cook a pot of sweet potatoes, soft and fragrant. Or sometimes she boils a huge pot of corn. The potatoes and corn grown at home are all clean and delicious. The cool, sweet water used to make tea is fragrant in the story of village love. The uncles and aunts laugh and talk to each other. They share stories about their homes, families, and fields. Stories about sending their children to town to study to get an education, to warm their bodies so that they can escape the life of farming. That image is deeply imprinted in my mind for a long time every time I remember the old days, about the village love in my hometown.
There were summer nights when we were not at ease. After dinner, we threw ourselves back into work. That was when the rice was harvested in the afternoon, waiting for the threshing machine to come and thresh it in time so that tomorrow we could wait for the sun to dry the rice and straw. “Farmers’ lives are so hard, my children. In the future, try to study hard so that you don’t have to work as hard as your parents.” My father often reminded my two brothers when they worked. The whole family worked until late at night before they could lie down to sleep.
Lying in the middle of the summer night today, in the corner of the old yard, everything has changed a lot but for me, my soul still remains in my childhood. I told my parents, I felt extremely happy, although the moment was very short but those were all wonderful moments. Moments of endless peace, of the sweet love of family and homeland that my parents gave me.
Source: https://baolamdong.vn/van-hoa-nghe-thuat/202506/nhung-dem-mua-ha-2943725/
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