Phoenix Love

If someone were to ask me what my most beautiful school memory is, I would immediately answer: the memory of my final year of high school, 12th grade. And if someone were to ask what memory haunts me the most, it would be the memory of the clusters of red flamboyant flowers – the color of heartfelt emotions, carrying so much nostalgia, burning with tears in the moment of saying goodbye to school days…

Today, everywhere, the flamboyant trees are ablaze with fiery blossoms. The 12th-grade students bid farewell to each other in the sun-drenched schoolyard, the sunlight harmonizing with the chirping summer chorus of cicadas, amidst a mix of wistful longing. Just yesterday, the idea of ​​saying goodbye to their youthful dreams and leaving their school days was still not clearly defined in the minds of these eighteen-year-old boys and girls.

Drifting along the stream of memories, I rediscovered my past self in school uniform. It was so long ago, the day I reluctantly wrote a few lines in my classmate's pretty little notebook on my last day of school, entrusting it with so many unspoken feelings. A memory that remains intact, even though time has receded into the abyss.

The color of the flower, likened to "the color of the heart's blood," has naturally become a symbol of first love, of innocent schoolgirl romance. The flower's color is a cherished memento, carried and nurtured as a deeply ingrained part of youthful memories. And so, countless unspoken loves find refuge in this passionate color, their emotions lingering for generations to come.

The poem I wrote for the phoenix flower was clumsy, without rhyme or meaning, and perhaps only contained the honest, naive emotions of adolescence, handed over as if wanting to share all the secret thoughts, for fear that tomorrow there would be no more opportunity to express them. Yet, it still brought tears to the eyes of my sensitive, dreamy girlfriend…

The last summer, a time when everyone wants to hold onto those rare moments, everyone rushes to find their few cherished memories, hoping these days won't be lost amidst the hustle and bustle of the future. The girl who excelled in literature in the class also managed to leave her mark on her friends' white uniforms with gentle verses: “Memories, please don't fly away / I will remember you forever.” Everyone fell silent as the words were etched onto desks, chairs, and school yearbooks. Then they froze. Then they cried…

The boys who were usually mischievous and playful were silent. They all shared the same feeling of longing and nostalgia. Outside, the flamboyant trees continued to burn brightly, their delicate petals falling like a veil, enveloping the entire exam season. All the childish anger and resentment suddenly vanished, giving way to cherished and loving moments, knowing that they would never see each other again next season…

During the last class, the teacher's lecture suddenly felt strangely warm and engaging. There was no boisterous laughter at the back of the classroom, no teasing or joking, but instead, there were soft, trembling sobs, as if students didn't want anyone to hear.

Each shimmering phoenix flower still blazed with passionate fire. Suddenly, I caught a pensive gaze through the window, lost in a myriad of profound and vague thoughts. She was probably thinking about tomorrow, about the bright future ahead, and about the sweet moments of today, amidst the whirlwind of school memories…

I also cherish the memories of those innocent years, where clusters of flowers bore the name of nostalgia. And today, walking amidst the vibrant red of the flamboyant tree blossoms, I turn my head to look back at those distant days, and my heart aches as I silently whisper: My beloved flamboyant tree!

Source: https://baophuyen.vn/sang-tac/202505/phuong-yeu-6951b4a/