Breathing cracks and the scent of homecoming

I reached the end of the lane when the year-end drizzle began to fall heavily. It was home. It was a warm home!

The cramped level 4 house was my childhood until I went to university. Photo taken in 2001 - when the inter-district road passed by and the house was extended with a small room for my mother to sell eggs, beans, vegetables, and eggplants to support the family - Photo: LUONG DINH KHOA

1. My father, with his rough cotton shirt with loose threads at the elbows, walked out shakily. He said nothing, just took the backpack from my shoulder. His hand was cold and dry like the bark of the ancient rosewood tree at the village entrance, but when it touched mine, a strange warmth ran down my spine.

Lying in bed at night, I pressed my cheek against the time-stained wall, feeling the cold sand from the Red River seep into every brick, transmitting straight to my numb skin. I heard the house breathing.

More precisely, it was the creaking sound of cracks running from the base of the wall up to the shiny black ironwood beam. During the past wet season, this wall had “sweated” – the tears of the plaster oozed out, flowing down like a pitiful old man.

I ran my finger over the roughness, feeling the roughness of the sand, the hardness of the cement, and suddenly felt a sting in my fingertips. This house was getting old. It was just like my parents.

Every year I come back, my mother's hair has another layer of gray, my father's back is more bent, the house has a few more cracks, and moss is thick on the roof tiles.

2. The next day, I woke up to see my father sitting in the corner of the yard lighting a pot of banh chung. The smell of the half-burned longan wood, acrid and stinging to the eyes, was strangely familiar. And listen: Clunk... clunk...

It was the whispering sound of the banh chung pot. The sound of sticky rice grains stirring to bloom, the sound of mung beans crumbling, the sound of fatty meat melting, blending together in the layer of green dong leaves.

Dad is "rekindling" family affection, using his own energy to mend the broken pieces after a long year apart.

Father's eyes squinted because of the smoke in the corner of the kitchen - when he scooped up the pot of boiled banh chung - Photo: LUONG DINH KHOA

As darkness began to spread over the brick yard, a stream of steam rose from the dark kitchen. The scent rushed straight into the nostrils, awakening a whole area of ​​dormant memories. It was the scent of the flowering coriander plant. Only in the North, people bathe at the end of the year with coriander leaves - as a ritual to wash away all the dust and worries, welcoming a new year of peace.

"The water is hot, come in and take a bath!" - Mom's voice echoed, hoarse from the cold wind.

Tống... tống... The trickling sound of water flowing from the coconut shell into the warped aluminum basin sounded slowly like the countdown of time. In the hazy smoke, mother's back was bent down, casting a crooked shadow on the soot-stained kitchen wall.

The pure, cleansing scent of nature mixed with the sour, pungent smell of sweat on my mother's worn-out sweater, creating a luxurious "perfume" that is not sold anywhere else in the world : the scent of peace.

It has become a habit, every year, every Tet, my mother never forgets to put old coriander plants in a large pot and boil water to bathe the whole family on the last afternoon of the year. The scent of old coriander lingers in my hair for three days of Tet... The rustic scent of the countryside, but enough to keep spring flowing from love - Photo: LUONG DINH KHOA

The fire had died down. Only a pile of grey ash remained. My mother would take an iron poker and gently push aside the thin layer of ash on top. A bright red glow would be revealed. Beneath that grey ash layer, the longan charcoal - or the core of the longan tree - was still glowing red, hot, smoldering, stubbornly keeping the heat throughout the night.

I suddenly shuddered to realize: This warm home was not built with bricks and mortar. It was built with these glowing coals. The Hung Yen longan trees, in the summer they offered their sweet fruit, in the winter they offered their flesh and bones for firewood to keep us warm.

Just like mother - the woman who voluntarily buried her youth and beauty under the "ashes" of responsibility and cooking, to silently keep the family fire burning forever.

3. New Year's Eve. The drizzle outside still sprinkled tiny white powder-like particles on the roof tiles.

My father stood before the altar. He wore a shabby suit he had bought ten years ago, too big for his increasingly shrunken body. His thin shoulders shook slightly.

Swoosh... The sound of a match being struck against a rough box. A yellow-orange flame flared up, illuminating the deep, harsh lines on my father's face. The flame quickly shrank into three bright red spots on the tip of the incense stick, flickering and ghostly. I looked up at the roof, where the rosewood beams my father had polished to a shine yesterday, and felt as if a thousand eyes were looking down to protect me...

***

That is the memory of the bungalow that I was attached to throughout my childhood years - until I went to university. Now, that house is no longer there - but that warm feeling is always present. Because of one thing: parents are the immortal roof that protects the life of each child.

Time is unpredictable, every Tet holiday when we can still see our parents' smiles is a complete home. Because Tet is actually very simple, just wrapped up in two words: Together.

Just like that, Tet is awakened in the heart.

Invite readers to participate in the writing contest
Spring Warmth

As a spiritual food for every Tet holiday, Tuoi Tre newspaper and its partner INSEE Cement Company continue to invite readers to participate in the Spring Warm Home writing contest to share and introduce your home - your warm home, its features and the memories that you will never forget.

The house where your grandparents, parents and you were born and raised; the house you built yourself; the house where you celebrated your first Tet with your family... can all be submitted to the contest to introduce to readers nationwide.

The article "Spring Warm Home" must not have participated in any writing contest, and must not have been published in any media or social networks. The author is responsible for copyright, the organizer has the right to edit, and the article will receive royalties when selected for publication in Tuoi Tre publications.

The contest takes place from December 1, 2025 to January 15, 2026, inviting all Vietnamese people regardless of age or profession to participate.

Articles on Spring Warmth in Vietnamese should be a maximum of 1,000 words, and should be accompanied by illustrative photos and videos (illustrative photos and videos taken from social networks without copyright are not accepted). Only accept articles via email, not via post to avoid loss.

Contest entries should be sent to email address maiamngayxuan@tuoitre.com.vn.

Authors must provide their address, phone number, email, account number, and citizen identification number so that the organizing committee can contact them and send them royalties or prizes.

Tuoi Tre newspaper staff and their families can participate in the Spring Warmth Writing Contest but will not be considered for prizes. The decision of the organizing committee is final.

Spring Warmth Awards Ceremony and Launch of Tuoi Tre Xuan Magazine

The jury, including famous journalists, cultural figures and representatives of Tuoi Tre newspaper, will review and award the preliminary entries and select the winners.

The award ceremony and launch of the Tuoi Tre Xuan magazine are expected to be held at Nguyen Van Binh Book Street, Ho Chi Minh City at the end of January 2026.

Prize:

1 first prize: 10 million VND + certificate, Tuoi Tre Xuan newspaper;

1 second prize: 7 million VND + certificate, Tuoi Tre Xuan newspaper;

1 third prize: 5 million VND + certificate, Tuoi Tre Xuan newspaper;

5 consolation prizes: 2 million VND each + certificate, Tuoi Tre Xuan newspaper.

10 readers' choice prizes: 1 million VND each prize + certificate, Tuoi Tre Xuan newspaper.

Voting points are calculated based on post interactions, where 1 star = 15 points, 1 heart = 3 points, 1 like = 2 points.

Back to topic

LUONG DINH KHOA

Source: https://tuoitre.vn/nhung-vet-nut-biet-tho-va-mui-huong-cua-su-tro-ve-2025120810392499.htm