The sound of falling phoenix flowers

It was only the beginning of summer, yet the sky seemed on the verge of cracking; cicadas chirped incessantly all day, even after the city had fallen into night. I gazed at old photographs, suddenly hearing the sound of falling phoenix flowers, and my heart was filled with a whirlwind of emotions.

May arrives, bringing with it the vibrant colors, fragrant scents, and sounds characteristic of the scorching summer days. Photo: Internet.

It was only the beginning of summer, yet the sky seemed on the verge of cracking; cicadas chirped incessantly all day, even after the city had fallen silent. Taking advantage of a moment of leisure, I opened the wooden cabinet, rummaged through my old books, and found my diary from my innocent school days, now worn and stained with the passage of time. Turning each page gently, I gazed at the old photographs, suddenly hearing the sound of falling phoenix flowers, and my heart was filled with a whirlwind of emotions.

May has arrived, bringing with it the colors, fragrances, and sounds characteristic of the scorching summer days. Anyone, intentionally or unintentionally, can hear and feel these special aspects of May. But perhaps it's certain that not everyone is attentive enough to hear and discern the most exquisite sounds, those sounds difficult to perceive even in a fleeting moment, carried on the gentle breeze: the sound of falling phoenix flowers.

The flamboyant tree blossoms in May, bestowing upon May a burning, overflowing intensity. The May sun is golden, the May sky a clear, expansive blue. May is singing of passionate emotions. The red of the flamboyant tree seems to join forces with the sun, scorching the skies. That red color also ignites feelings of longing and nostalgia in people, allowing memories to come alive again in a continuous stream.

The phoenix flower bestows upon May a fiery, overflowing intensity. Photo: Internet.

The sound of falling phoenix flowers blends silently with the chirping of cicadas... That sound stirred up so many old memories within me. How long has it been since I've had such a slow, lingering moment to feel everything around me? In the scorching sun, even the phoenix flower petals seem to be flattened. They fall so gently, like the chirping of a bird, then wither in the courtyards or on the grassy banks. Occasionally, gusts of wind or passing cars create swirling currents, causing the petals to drift away.

I remember that year's flamboyant tree blossom season, the last of my student life. I remember a crisp May morning in my pristine white school uniform, holding bunches of flamboyant blossoms in my hands, eagerly taking final yearbook photos with teachers and friends. Those tearful moments, the poignant farewells, the promises of tomorrow, and the days of reunion. I can also never forget that mischievous yet innocent memory from the 12th grade graduation ceremony, when I climbed a tree to pick some flamboyant blossoms to decorate the classroom, accidentally slipped and fell, luckily only getting scrapes on my arms and legs. Memories of that exam season, that season of farewells, come back to me vividly...

The sound of falling phoenix flowers, rediscovering the old days through old diary entries, makes me love summer even more. (Illustrative image: Internet)

Back then, we made so many promises to each other, spending every day side-by-side trying to fulfill our dream of becoming literature students at Hanoi Pedagogical University. But then, life showed me that not every promise comes true completely. That early autumn, my friend and I shared the joy of achieving our long-held aspirations. On enrollment day, two naive country boys packed our bags and took a bus to Hanoi to "rent in the city" and begin a new journey. But then, due to family circumstances, despite his best efforts, he had to drop out and go to the South to help his family. I stayed in Hanoi, promising my friend I would study hard to make our shared dream of becoming literature teachers a reality. I graduated and remained in Hanoi working, and since then, I haven't had the chance to meet my old friend again.

Memories and longing for summers of yesteryear flood back like a river in my hometown during the flood season. A single falling phoenix flower, a search for the past through old diary entries, makes me love summer even more, cherish the flowers of school days even more, and appreciate even more the memories and nostalgia of my friends in their white uniforms, and the unintentional yet profoundly special and sensitive way I listened...

Tran Viet Hoang

Source: https://baohatinh.vn/van-hoc/tieng-phuong-roi/248384.htm