On those mornings, the entire island was silent except for the howling wind, telling stories of the vast ocean beyond, of sails sailing against the wind. In the cloudy evening, the sunset glowed a brilliant red, and a kite, full of wind, was lifted high into the sky by a child on the island with hurried steps and the sound of their joyful laughter echoing.
I stood in the corner of the apartment complex courtyard in Ho Chi Minh City, looking up at the sky dyed red by flags fluttering in the April breeze.
I joined the parade, listening to the wind blowing from Bach Dang Wharf telling the story of history. The scent of the city breeze on an early summer day wasn't enough to dispel the heat, but it was enough to fill people's hearts with excitement and pride for a glorious 50-year journey.
I sat with friends at a coffee shop in Tam Ky one May morning, listening to the wind rustling through the last remaining yellow blossoms of the crape myrtle tree rolling on the sidewalk, listening to countless anxieties. About the future, about the road ahead, about names that will soon only remain in memory. The taste of the coffee suddenly became more bitter than usual, because it was tinged with worry and regret.
Change can sometimes happen so quickly that it takes us by surprise. Like a scorching midday sun suddenly giving way to a breeze carrying the scent of dampness, followed by the first summer rain.
People hurried in their own unique ways: some simply turned on their car's windshield wipers, others stopped their motorbikes to put on raincoats, some opened their umbrellas, some quickly took shelter under an awning to wait for the rain to pass, and some calmly sat in a corner of a balcony with a green canopy, watching the hurried crowds...
Every change—like the rain—is always a whirlwind of surprises and bewilderment. When the wind swirls a leaf, it's a sign of a new beginning. Just like when I hear the wind bringing a thunderstorm, I know spring is turning into summer, and I go out to watch the fish in the rice paddies celebrating the arrival of the water.
Just like Huu Thinh, who knows autumn has arrived when he smells the scent of guava in the cool breeze, just as people in Hanoi know to wear their winter clothes from last year when they hear the dry, chilly wind rustling through the trees.
I call them the winds of change. They bring with them so many changes, but also so many gifts. Like the clear sky after a summer rain, like the fragrant aroma of roasted rice in the August breeze, or the warm hearth of a winter day.
Life, too, contains its own winds; it moves in its own unique swirling patterns, constantly changing, but hidden within these swirling currents are unexpected gifts, waiting to be grasped and enjoyed.
As I walked barefoot through the fields one afternoon, tilting my head back to let the wind toss my tangled hair, inhaling the fragrant scent of lotus blossoms, and reaching out to pick the first pink lotus of the season – a gift of summer, of the wind, and of life's ever-changing cycle…
Source: https://baoquangnam.vn/nhung-ngon-gio-chuyen-mua-3154514.html
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