It's a gentle, subtly sweet fragrance, like a deep, echoing call from the depths of memory, awakening innocent, carefree days of childhood. Suddenly, I intensely miss those times sitting under the tree, gazing up at the glistening golden persimmons peeking out from beneath the lush foliage in the afternoon sun.
The old persimmon tree stood desolate in a corner by the well, its branches silently casting shade over the small garden behind the chicken coop. Each autumn, its branches seemed to droop, glistening with round, plump fruits, as if gathering within themselves the entire scorching summer sun. The golden persimmons, like something out of a fairy tale, ripened silently, releasing their fragrance—a scent both pure and intoxicating, seeping into every corner of the old house, clinging to the evening breeze, and lingering along the paths and courtyards… Ripe persimmons possess a unique, unmistakable aroma; no matter how many other scents one might forget, once one has inhaled the scent of ripe persimmons, it will linger for a lifetime, like how people fall in love without even realizing it.
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| Illustration: Tra My |
I still vividly remember those autumn afternoons, when the sun cast long shadows across the crumbling courtyard, and my grandmother would place a bamboo basket under the persimmon tree and use a bamboo pole to pick the glistening golden persimmons. She would give some to neighbors and the children at the end of the village, who would linger on the buffaloes' backs, some perched precariously on their backs, others standing on tiptoe on the brick wall, trying to inhale the scent of the ripe persimmons until their lungs were full before finally leading the buffaloes back to the barn. The rest she would put in a bamboo basket, placing it on top of the cupboard. Just stepping inside, the persimmon scent would fill the air, mingling with the smell of wood from the wooden bed frame, evoking the lingering scent of time in the old room… transforming the entire space into a realm of memories overflowing with fragrance…
The season of ripe persimmons is also associated with countless small, gentle, and warm memories. I remember those scorching midday suns, lying in a hammock under a tree, closing my eyes, letting the scent of persimmons gently waft through the air, like the hand of Cinderella from the fairy tale fanning me with a palm-leaf fan, somewhat dispelling the heat. Most memorable is when the persimmons ripen, gently peeling back the thin outer skin and bringing it to my mouth, feeling the light, sweet taste on my tongue.
Time passes, and autumns fade away one after another, but the scent of persimmons remains anchored in my somewhat cramped memory. Every time I walk down the street in autumn, just catching a fleeting whiff of the fragrance, I feel as if I'm transported back to the old persimmon tree. I see the golden sunlight dappling through the leaves, hear the last cicadas of the season chirping in the canopy, and hear my grandmother calling me to the garden to pick persimmons before the birds come and eat them. These memories, though intangible, remain ever-present in my heart, no matter how hard time tries to conceal them.
Autumn has arrived in the city, and the persimmons from my hometown are ripening. A few stalls still sell them at the market, but the flavor seems to have lost some of its original intensity. Perhaps it's because it's been so long since I last heard the sound of persimmons falling in the yard, since I last saw my grandmother stooping to neatly arrange them in baskets, and since those breezy, sun-drenched afternoons in the garden.
Like a whisper of memory, the scent of persimmons acts as a bridge between the present and the past, reminding me of days gone by, of the love that nurtured a pure and peaceful childhood, so that as I grow older, my heart aches with a vast, unspoken longing. Because ultimately, to stand firm amidst the hustle and bustle of life, one doesn't need many grand things, but just a familiar scent, to know that one once had a beautiful childhood, once had ambitions and many dreams…
Source: https://baodaklak.vn/van-hoa-du-lich-van-hoc-nghe-thuat/van-hoc-nghe-thuat/202508/nong-nan-huong-thi-25002b0/
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