Cool fan for a lifetime

BPO - I remember when I was in 3rd grade, my teacher gave me a craft assignment: to make a paper fan. At that time, I simply thought it was a toy. Little did I know that from bamboo strips and thin paper, my father had poured a lifetime of love into it.

Few children know how to whet bamboo strips, measure paper, and align them properly. I struggled with the warped bamboo strips and the thin white paper, clumsy like a baby bird learning to fly. My father sat there, under the yellow oil lamp, squinting at me. Then he smiled gently, took the mess from my hand, and said, “Let me do it.”

With his rough hands, my father began to work meticulously. He shaved each small bamboo stick, shaving it so that it was thin but still flexible; he cut white paper to paste as the fan’s surface, as flat as if he were stretching a canvas waiting to be painted, carefully folding each small fold. Then, with a dexterity that I only understood much later, he also cut a pair of birds out of colored paper, pasted them between the fan’s surface, as if breathing life into that simple handicraft. That night, I sat next to my father, listening to the cheerful clacking of the bamboo knife, listening to his steady breathing mixed with the sound of insects in the garden. Something warm crept into my heart, a kind of love that when we were young, we only knew how to receive, not knowing how to name.

A few days later, when I turned in my product, I was the only one in the class who had completed it. The other fans were just clumsily folded pieces of paper, but mine was sturdy and beautiful. The teacher held the fan tenderly, nodding her head in approval, her eyes shining with satisfaction. My friends gathered around to look and exclaimed, “So beautiful! Who cut and pasted that bird?”

I blushed, embarrassed. I did not dare to take all the compliments that day for myself. In my heart, I only felt a surge of pride, pride in my father - an illiterate country man, but who had created a work with all his heart and sophistication.

Years passed, that paper fan was lost somewhere among the house moves, the school changes, the upheavals of life. But the memory of that night of doing homework by hand is still intact, like the clear water that holds the image of what has passed, never fading.

I grew up, left the poor thatched roof, passed through big cities with bright lights. But the further I went, the more I realized that the urban lights could not warm my soul like a night with my father and the sound of bamboo peeling knives in the past. There were nights sitting by the window, watching the streets curled in the mist, I missed my father's hands, missed the sound of the wind in the garden, missed the way my father silently gave me his love without needing to say a word.

Then one day, when I returned to my hometown after many years of hard work, I rummaged through the old house, in an old box, and found the old fan - the paper was yellowed, the bamboo slats were brittle and broken, the paper birds were discolored, like memories fading over the years. I held the fan tremblingly, as if holding onto my childhood, holding onto the image of my father who silently loved me with his hard-working hands.

My father is now old, his back bent like a drawn bow. His hands are no longer agile, but his eyes are still dark brown, persistent and full of love. I walked over, held the old fan out to him, and asked chokingly: "Do you still remember this fan?" My father squinted his eyes, looked for a long time and smiled, a smile that contained summer, autumn and all the loving seasons of life wrapped up in it.

The paper fan - a small handmade item - turned out to be a treasure that I carried with me throughout my life. It not only cooled me down on hot summer days but also cooled my soul on cramped days, fanning me back to my father and my childhood memories. And even though many years have passed and my hair has turned white, I am still proud of my father - the one who not only cooled me down on summer afternoons but also cooled me down for a lifetime of love...

Hello love, season 4, theme "Father" officially launched from December 27, 2024 on four types of press and digital infrastructure of Radio - Television and Binh Phuoc Newspaper (BPTV), promising to bring to the public the wonderful values ​​of sacred and noble fatherly love.
Please send to BPTV your touching stories about Father by writing articles, writing feelings, poems, essays, video clips, songs (with recordings),... via email chaonheyeuthuongbptv@gmail.com, Editorial Secretary Office, Binh Phuoc Radio - Television and Newspaper, No. 228, Tran Hung Dao, Tan Phu Ward, Dong Xoai City, Binh Phuoc Province, phone number: 0271.3870403. The time to receive articles is from now until August 30, 2025.
Quality articles will be published, paid royalties, and rewarded at the end of the topic with 1 special prize and 10 excellent prizes.
Let's continue writing the story about Father with "Hello Love" season 4, so that stories about Father can spread and touch everyone's hearts!

Source: https://baobinhphuoc.com.vn/news/19/173188/quat-mat-mot-doi-thuong