May and the things left behind

On the windless hillsides, the schools are hidden in the green of the trees. May is not too bright but not cold either. On foggy mornings, students still call each other to ride their bikes to class, their coats hanging loosely over their shoulders, their mouths laughing loudly, but their hearts are silently sinking because of the things they are about to say goodbye to.

In the last days of the school year, the sound of the school drum suddenly becomes distant. Each class period seems shorter, each look and each conversation between friends is suddenly filled with excitement. People suddenly realize that there are too many things they have not had time to say, too many memories they have not had time to keep. The wooden tables that once had someone’s name engraved on them, the classroom windows that once welcomed the morning sunlight and the furtive glances of adolescence, now become places of remembrance.

There were some last afternoons when we sat on the familiar stone bench, passing around the faded yearbook. The neat handwriting: “My friend, even if we go our separate ways tomorrow, remember that we used to have each other” - it sounded simple but felt as heavy as a time. One friend smiled and said: “If you don’t write more, I’ll be angry”, then secretly wiped away tears. Another was silent, just hugging his friend for a long time. No need for many words, everyone understood: this was a moment that every time we remembered it in the future, our hearts would skip a beat.

The end of the school year was like a slow motion film. The pure white uniforms, the bouquets of flowers handed to teachers with grateful eyes. The moment of standing to take the last group photo, some people burst into laughter because of someone's funny head tilt, others were on the verge of tears. Because from tomorrow, we will no longer be in the same class, no longer have recess together, no longer have anyone to sit next to and whisper endless stories.

There were times when we wished time would pass quickly to escape from the tests, the unexpected oral exams, the sleepy cleaning sessions. But then, when time really does pass quickly, we want to hold on to it all, even just one more time.

School memories are so beautiful that sometimes we wonder: is it because we are young, because we are innocent, that everything becomes memorable? Is it because of the first love, the sincere friendships, or simply because that is the last time we live a full life without worries or calculations?

After the seasons of farewell, each person chooses a path. Some continue their studies far away, some start working, some choose to stay in their hometown. The promises of those days - "we will definitely meet again in the future" - gradually become vague. Text messages are sparse, phone calls are less frequent. But as soon as May returns, old memories seem to flood back with each phoenix flower petal, with each sudden first rain of the season.

There are days when I wander through the old road, accidentally seeing the white uniforms of students passing under the shady trees, my heart sinks. It is as if I have lost something, and can never find it again. People grow up, learn to face the present, learn to let go. But no one can forget the months of May of a pure time. No one can forget the last days of the school year when they lived fully, loved, and regretted.

May is always like that. Quiet yet full of turmoil. Gentle yet uncertain. Whether in the city or the mountains, in a small village school or a big city, the sadness of parting with students is still a common emotion.

If you are living in the last days of the school year - live slowly. Hug your friends for a long time. Be brave to say thank you, sorry, goodbye. Write each other long lines in the yearbook, even though you know you may never read them again. Because one day, when you have gone through many storms in life, you will see that those small things are the most sacred and lasting.

May is the season of ending - but also the season of beginning. Ending a journey to move on to a new one. Ending to grow up. But what has been will not be lost, it will just quietly lie in the heart, so that every time the wind of May returns, our hearts will gently miss it.

Source: https://baolamdong.vn/van-hoa-nghe-thuat/202505/thang-nam-va-nhung-dieu-con-gui-lai-21a0468/