I grew up in a small riverside hamlet, where every summer, the old royal poinciana tree in front of the school gate was the central figure of my childhood. The royal poinciana not only shaded the schoolyard but was also a silent witness to the smiles, eyes and tears of innocent, pure school age. Strangely, even though time passed, that flower season was still deeply engraved in my memory, as if nothing could erase it.

Illustration: Kieu Loan

Illustration: Kieu Loan

I still clearly remember the feeling of excitement every time the royal poinciana season was about to come, when the first buds began to bloom, my heart was already fluttering as if waiting for a miracle. All of us kids back then, after school, would gather in groups of five or seven under the royal poinciana tree, picking up the fallen red petals, arranging them into the shape of stars, apricot blossoms or pressing them flat into notebooks to bring home. That red color - brilliant but not dazzling, gentle but poignant - seemed to permeate people's hearts, becoming the color of childhood, of the first emotions that had yet to be named.

Long ago, I heard my grandmother say that royal poinciana is a tree of longing. Unlike apricot blossoms and peach blossoms that bloom in spring, royal poinciana chooses summer to bloom, as if it wants to hold on to the parting eyes of graduating seniors. Perhaps that is why royal poinciana is always associated with separation - not noisy, but heartbreaking. Under the royal poinciana canopy in the past, I was speechless during the final farewell, when my deskmate silently handed me a red royal poinciana petal, then walked away without looking back. It turns out that there are feelings that are only full when wrapped in silence.

Growing up and going far away, whenever I think of my hometown, a familiar image appears in my mind: the gentle river flowing through rows of water coconut trees, the sweet voices of the villagers and the bright red color of the royal poinciana flowers. Once, on a trip back home after many years away from home, I came across the royal poinciana tree in front of the school gate that was older, its roots protruding above the ground, its branches and leaves withered by time. But when summer came, it still glowed bright red like the old days. I suddenly felt my heart tremble with an indescribable emotion - as if the past had never really left me, it was just lying quietly in a corner of my memory, waiting to be awakened.

Royal poinciana trees in my hometown have something very unique. Not only are they brilliant in color, but also because they grow in the land at the southernmost tip of the country - where the sky is vast, the land is vast, and people's hearts are vast. There are trees growing on the banks of small canals, reflecting their shadows on the muddy water, next to the rumbling sound of engines and gently gliding boats. There are trees lying quietly in the village schoolyard, calling back clear laughter and the chirping of cicadas every summer, echoing from time immemorial. In that place, royal poinciana flowers are not just trees, but also symbols of memories, nostalgia, and a love of the countryside that is not easily put into words.

People often say that the older we get, the more we understand that seemingly small things are the things that make our hearts ache the most. Like the royal poinciana - a flower that is neither luxurious nor sophisticated, but is deeply attached to many generations. The royal poinciana does not have a strong scent like the milk flower, is not as shy as the apricot flower, nor is it as elegant as the rose, but carries within it perseverance, intense memories and the vitality to grow in the blazing sun of the Southern land.

Time passes, people change, but some things remain, like the phoenix flowers in summer. No matter who you are, where you live, how long it has been since you returned to your hometown, every time you see the flowers bloom, your heart will still flutter. Because memories do not need to be named, just a sign - like the color of the flower - is enough to bring back the whole sky of childhood.

I sat quietly on the old stone bench in the old schoolyard, watching the petals fall gently in the wind. The May wind still carried the scent of alluvial soil from the riverbank behind the school. The red petals lay still on the old notebook, as evidence of the past, of a part of my life. I suddenly realized that the things that make us remember forever are not the most brilliant things, but the seemingly trivial things that are connected to us by an emotional thread that cannot be broken.

That land at the end of the sky not only has mangrove forests and silver seas, but also has a season of flowers calling summer, pure and full of emotions: royal poinciana flowers. Every time the flowers bloom, no matter where I am, I feel like I am returning to my distant homeland and I believe, not only me, but for anyone who has ever been attached to the land and people here, the red royal poinciana is always a sacred, profound and never-fading part of memory./.

Duc Anh

Source: https://baocamau.vn/phuong-do-trong-mien-ky-uc-a38888.html