In the old days, there were only mechanical clocks that ran on springs, and sometimes they would lie down and rest in my father's shop. They were lined up in a long row, and when the outer covers were removed, the big and small gears would be exposed. My father compared them to old people who needed to be cared for and rested after a long period of working hard every second and every minute. That comparison reminded me of my grandfather's bent back, which through the hardships of rain and sun now flickered like an oil lamp in the wind. My grandfather often sat on the porch, chewing betel and looking over at the thatched hut that was falling apart every day in the wind. My grandfather watched the innocent children burst into joy when they saw a clock that had just started working again after a long time with the three hands at the number 6. I loved seeing my father's face at that time. Every time he finished repairing a clock, my father would breathe a sigh of relief, carefully holding it and placing it on the red-painted wooden table in the middle of the tent. I am sure it is like the joy and serenity of a doctor when he has just saved a patient. Then that night someone will come to receive the watch with excitement. The watch wakes up children to go to school on time. The watch shakes the dull houses with a regular sound like a heartbeat, like footsteps, like the sound of a happy heart...
But my father did not always toil in that small hut. Because those durable watches rarely broke down. The rest of the time I watched my father become more energetic and active in his farm work. He planted trees, carried rice in the fields, went up the mountain to chop wood, went down to the river to catch fish. He always looked happy and full of life energy. Sometimes I wondered if because he was a watch repairman, he had accumulated a fund of time to live more abundantly than all other normal people. That thought made me love my father's small "shop" more, even though the wages for repairing watches were only a basket of potatoes, a bunch of bananas, a few bushels of rice, a bag of soybeans or a bunch of muddy shrimp. There were even things that my father brought home without knowing what to do with, but he clicked his tongue and smiled, saying, "Let's just hold them to make people happy, we're all in the same rustic scene." At those times, I like to run back and nestle into my father's chest, like comfort, like joy, like the deep compassion of a foolish son for his father.
Then I grew up, the pure joys also gradually disappeared. Many nights I woke up startled to hear the ticking of the clock and missed the clock repair shop with the sign made from my father's ragged tray. The sound of the clock's hands now is often as sad as the sound of falling rain, the sound of the heart of a rash and impulsive person waking up to miss his homeland. My time fund seems not to be somewhere in the future but has been forgotten in the flow of memories of a time.
Tick tock! Tick tock…
Hello love, season 4, theme "Father" officially launched from December 27, 2024 on four types of press and digital infrastructure of Dong Nai Newspaper and Radio and Television, promising to bring to the public the wonderful values of sacred and noble fatherly love.
Please send to Dong Nai Newspaper, Radio and Television your touching stories about Father by writing articles, writing feelings, poems, essays, video clips, songs (with recordings),... via email [email protected], Electronic Newspaper and Digital Content Department, Dong Nai Newspaper, Radio and Television, No. 81, Dong Khoi, Tam Hiep Ward, Dong Nai Province, phone number: 0909.132.761. 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!
Vu Thi Huyen Trang
Source: https://baodongnai.com.vn/van-hoa/chao-nhe-yeu-thuong/202507/thoi-gian-cua-bo-59b0d2c/
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