Time slips through our fingers.

QTO - Every year, when the last page of the calendar falls, I feel like a traveler who has just walked a long mile of gravel and dust, suddenly wanting to stop by the roadside, take off my old shoes, brush off the dust clinging to my trousers, and sit down to reflect on the journey I've taken. Only after experiencing enough of life's hardships do people realize that time doesn't rush by noisily; it slips through your fingers like sand, silently disappearing no matter how tightly you try to grasp it, taking with it both sparkling joys and sorrows that haven't yet faded.

One drizzly evening at the end of the year, I sat in a small cafe with an old friend. We didn't ask how far we'd come, nor did we need to reminisce about things we'd missed; my friend simply pushed a steaming cup of strong tea towards me. And so, we sat in silence, watching the streets go by in the dim light of the streetlights. People hurried past each other in their late-night struggle for survival. In that moment, I felt incredibly fortunate to be able to "stand outside" that chaotic flow for a while, to cherish this small sense of peace. It turns out that happiness is sometimes just a cup of hot tea, a kindred spirit who understands my silence, and a lighthearted state of mind amidst the hustle and bustle of daily life.

My friend said that as the years rush by, looking back on the old days reveals that time is the most effective but also the most cruel medicine. When we were young, we often saw time as a generous giant, always ready to wait at the crossroads for us to wander freely. At that time, we believed we could postpone everything: an apology, a hug, or a homecoming. But after experiencing enough seasons, we suddenly realize that time waits for no one; it silently erodes what we once considered immutable. And it is time that hastily takes away precious things, carrying with it our dearest loved ones, never to return.

Illustration: HH

Your voice choked with emotion as you said that the losses had made you realize that at the end of the year, no matter how chaotic the world outside, the most important thing was finding your way home. Sometimes it was just a couple of short days after a long, crowded bus journey, other times you rushed back to the city just in time for New Year's Eve. Sadly, each year, you see your parents' faces grow a little older. Wrinkles deepen on their faces, now dotted with age spots. Returning home, walking on the wide concrete roads, you intensely miss the red dirt roads, the simple meals of boiled vegetables and the pungent smell of shrimp paste, yet so warm and fulfilling. It turns out, returning isn't about boasting about what you've accomplished over the past year, or recounting your glorious successes. We return to be ourselves, to see our mother still sitting by the fire, our father still lost in thought over a cup of tea, and to see ourselves still the child allowed to make mistakes, allowed to be vulnerable. And it turns out that traveling everywhere in this vast world makes you realize that home is the only place that doesn't require you to wear shiny armor to face countless difficulties.

"Let bygones be bygones"—it sounds easy, but it's a process of learning to be forgiving of yourself. We often easily forgive others but are too harsh on ourselves. We torment ourselves over unfinished plans, past mistakes, and unspoken words. But the winds of the past have blown away. Let what has been broken be broken in the most beautiful way. Let what has been lost be considered part of life's lessons.

I got up, said goodbye to my old friend, went home, turned on the lights, and began cleaning my little house. I threw away things I no longer used, wiped the dust off old picture frames, as if I were cleaning my own heart. I prepared for the new year not with grand ambitions, but with a mindset ready to welcome new "winds," with greater calmness and gentleness. Time will continue to flow, but as long as our hearts are broad and warm enough, every passing season will leave behind seeds of peace.

Dieu Huong

Source: https://baoquangtri.vn/van-hoa/202602/thoi-gian-troi-qua-ke-tay-9e24c0c/