Tet, a time to show our love for each other.

One might think that time also arrives slowly and deliberately, with seasons leisurely coming in sunshine and rain, leaving the past behind and waiting ahead. But Tet (Lunar New Year) is not like that; it arrives quickly in a few fallen leaves, in the sprouting green shoots of trees, and in the old apricot blossoms that, having just been stripped of their leaves, already have buds as thick as chopsticks.

Springtime. Photo: Lap Duc

"Who would have thought, it's gone by so quickly!" my mother exclaimed confidently. It's impossible for things to suddenly shift so fast that the spring breeze arrives, and the New Year is already just around the corner.

Approaching her eighty-second Lunar New Year, my mother's heart was still filled with a mixture of excitement and emotion. Still feeling that her preparations were lacking, she hurried and busied herself, filled with a hopeful and hopeful anticipation.

My mother describes Tet (Vietnamese New Year) with all the emotions of eighty-two years combined, everything deeply etched within her. Perhaps her body already has a place for Tet, waiting for the gentle breeze to arrive, and that mechanism is activated, making her heart beat faster and more joyfully.

She would begin living for this time by familiarizing herself with routines, almost repeating them year after year, without being able to make a single mistake.

That's why, even in the early days of the twelfth lunar month, she would already be sitting at the door with her basket, waiting for her eldest daughter-in-law to take her to the market. The old woman meticulously wanted to choose a few things herself to make a whole yard of dried candied fruits to satisfy her craving. It was the craving of someone who cherished traditional Tet customs with austere care: meticulously peeling, slicing, grating, and pricking... various fruits and plants.

Only when the Tet holiday still has the sweet and sour aroma wafting from the small kitchen, and the vibrant colors lining the shelves… can we feel at ease. Mom was so focused that when she stood up, her back ached terribly.

The grandchildren looked at their grandmother and also wanted to sigh, "Oh, there's so much to do at the end of the year, and seeing Grandma displaying a whole basket of star fruit buds, I know there's going to be more work to do..."

The twelfth lunar month is almost over, and by chance, someone remembered they needed to go back to their hometown to admire their mother's drying yard shimmering in the sunlight. It felt like Tet was playing hide-and-seek in the last rays of the year's sun, pouring down on the yard overflowing with baskets and trays.

The days leading up to Tet (Lunar New Year) are especially sunny. The sunlight is a golden "lemon yellow," my niece affirmed, and my aunt, feeling homesick, agreed as we sat in this familiar courtyard.

As soon as the sun peeked over the courtyard, they pulled out the basket of cabbage to dry, carefully watching it wilt so that it would be crispy when pickled. "This year, the floods were unexpected; the cabbage gardens were submerged just as the plants were starting to take root, and so were other vegetables, so they're all very expensive!"

The reminder about expensive possessions is simply to emphasize the importance of valuing every little thing, cherishing each detail. Only by doing so can one truly appreciate the preciousness of small things and understand the value of life.

In the early afternoon sun, we carry two baskets of bananas to press and dry. When the sun gets a little brighter, we prepare them for making candied bananas, drying them until the sugar adheres to each piece, leaving them dry, white, fluffy, and crispy.

The mother sat watching the sun, her face a mixture of thoughtfulness and contentment, fanning herself like a celestial being descended to earth, gathering joy in every little bit of this busy life, which she would soon bestow upon her children.

The fairy maiden perfectly preserves the traditional Tet (Vietnamese New Year) in her hands, hands adorned with countless tortoiseshell flowers, honest traces of time.

Tet is coming soon, so the children gather at home, cautiously glancing at their elderly mother with gray hair, filled with affection. Every Tet brings forth old stories, surely thanks to their mother's diligence and unwavering preservation of this tradition.

What else is there? Three, four, five, seven children, all now middle-aged, I don't know what roles they play in society anymore, but stepping into the old house, the only role I can fully play is that of a mother and daughter.

Each of them inhaled the scents of home, the kitchen, the stewed meat, the pickled vegetables. Someone brought up old stories, and suddenly they flowed like a gentle stream.

"Little sister, I remember when I used to paddle a boat with Mom all the way into the canal, and you fell and broke your leg. The boat was rocking and you cried so much it hurt. Mom and I were paddling, trying to keep the boat from rocking, and we had to paddle fast enough to catch the current before dark."

"And then there's the story about my older sister making us all sit in a line, around Tet (Lunar New Year), so she could cut our hair. She promised to give us a nice haircut so we'd have new hairstyles for Tet."

"Every time, she would put a bowl on each of their heads. After cutting their hair, the whole group would rush out into the yard crying hysterically and demanding compensation. She was afraid of Mom's scolding, so she hid at her grandparents' house, making Mom worried, and she would frantically go looking for her."

"And remember, Dad brought back several bundles of fabric to make New Year's clothes? He passed by Uncle's house, stopped in to visit, and Auntie was complaining that she couldn't buy anything for the kids this year. Dad gave her the whole bag, thinking she'd choose a bundle, but she took it all."

"That year, none of us had anything for Tet (Lunar New Year)." These stories from when my siblings and I were children, seemingly filled with hardship, now become cherished memories, reminding us of a time when we were a close-knit family, surrounded by our parents, and a place we thought we would never be separated from.

These Lunar New Year celebrations are etched in memory, bringing forth countless stories still lingering in my mind—stories that seem ordinary, but when recounted, they feel fresh, as if the joys and sorrows are still imprinted somewhere on my mother's walls.

No, it seems like the tears are welling up in Mom's eyes, and the tearful, emotional tears are about to spill out. Afraid to cry, not only Mom, not only me, but the older children teased each other a bit. The Lunar New Year is for fun, why talk about such mundane things?

Gone are the days when joy came easily, the days of childhood, then adolescence, the time of first love, the time of youthful energy and hope.

In the blink of an eye, we're all middle-aged, and in another blink, old age is rapidly approaching. The Lunar New Year is busier, but sitting together and reminiscing, moments like these become priceless.

That's why, no matter what we do during Tet, we always make sure to bring each other home.

Don't go home, because I'm afraid I haven't expressed enough affection to those close to me!

MINH PHUC

Source: https://baodongthap.vn/tet-hen-thuong-nhau-a236842.html