Missing the cool breeze

October gently stirs with the silent rustling of falling leaves and the soft breeze rustling through the trees at the end of the street. The summer sun has softened, shimmering gently, enough to evoke memories, enough to stir the heart. The wind is crisp, the sky is deep blue, and the scent of autumn—a sweet, delicate, yet captivating fragrance—is ripening in the peaceful atmosphere of October. That is autumn. That is the arrival of the gentle breeze.

Afternoon on the village road. Photo: PHONG VU

I love autumn with a very special love. Autumn is not as noisy as summer, not as rainy as winter, nor as full of flowers and leaves as spring. Autumn comes with the rustling sound of leaves underfoot, with the smell of new rice mixed in the wind, with the yellow color creeping everywhere, and with afternoons filled with golden sunlight as bright as honey. But what I love most is still the cool breeze. The October rice fields are faintly rustling, rustling in the harvest season. The wind stirs the lake's surface, making ripples, whispering a heartbreaking love story. Therefore, every October, when autumn is more than halfway through, the sunlight is no longer harsh and the rainy season has just passed, we welcome the cool breezes that bring with them a very special chill.

It has been a long time since I had the chance to return to my hometown in the cool season. The village road has now been paved with concrete under the golden afternoon sun. In my anxiety, where is the slanted brick lane where I used to sit and wait for my mother every afternoon? Where is the stone bridge where we used to sit and play hopscotch together? What I remember most are the afternoons when I followed my friends to the village entrance to welcome my mother home from the fields. When I saw her silhouette, I ran to her and called out. Every day, my mother was busy and hurried, her feet covered in mud, her shoulder pole on her shoulder. She would pat my head and take off the basket on her hip to give me a gift from the countryside. I happily looked in the basket for a few crabs or some catfish, perch, and crucian carp. The gifts my mother brought back were small products from the muddy, hard-working fields. In the red sunset, I ran after my mother on the quiet village road. The peaceful scenery of the countryside was still there, now it seemed so far away and vague.

I was absorbed in walking on the village road filled with memories. The mulberry tree in front of the gate was rustling in the cool breeze, shaking its yellow leaves to fly silently saying goodbye to the green canopy, giving up its essence for the next season's growth. I quietly walked in the autumn afternoon on the country road, bringing back many memories, a nostalgic and emotional mood. The place that held my childhood years. The images of my family and relatives always followed me during the years away from home. I still remember the afternoons on the hammock creaking at the roof top, I fell into a deep sleep to my mother's lullaby. All those images are now just memories, a source of energy, nourishing my soul.

The cool breeze, to me, is not just a law of nature. It is a memory, a peace, the sweetest things that time cannot take away. And in the silence of that day, the gentle, lingering, fluttering breeze, I find myself silent under the wind.

AN THI HONG

Source: https://www.sggp.org.vn/thuong-nho-heo-may-post819992.html