Heart of Peace

Illustration: PV

Those words from his comrade, a man loyal to his country, and from his devoted wife whom he cherished his whole life, still echoed in his ears. In the deepest part of the tunnel, only the wailing cries of a little angel could be heard…

Minh Hoa, you must remember what your mother told you: you must cherish peace , listen to me!

Occasionally, he would gently say these words to his daughter. She knew them by heart, yet still listened attentively to please her father. She looked at him as if he were a predecessor, a generation that had lived and fought wholeheartedly for the country to achieve the peace we enjoy today. She loved him deeply. And for him – the old, wounded soldier who would see spring arrive many more times – she was a treasure. In that dark bunker, the little girl was the sun that guided him. The soldier of yesteryear chose the name Minh Hoa for her, and much later, when she asked about its meaning, her kind father explained that "Minh" meant wisdom, and "Hoa" meant peace. He wanted her name to carry the meaning of an eternal yearning for peace…

She never knew her mother's face. The only photograph her father kept had faded with time. War, burials, rain, sun, and the years had dulled the black-and-white picture. He regretted it deeply, but couldn't keep it. Her mother, who had been so loyal to her country, could only be imagined through her father's stories, her imagination, and her burning longing. When they sat together in the small garden with its vibrant purple flowers blooming in the afternoon sky, he would often tell her about the war and the woman he loved his whole life. He probably feared that if he didn't mention her mother, she might forget. But she never forgot her mother. In her heart, the image of her mother with her long braids and white flowers in her hair lived on.

There's no end to the stories of war and conflict. After a while, she whispered softly in the old veteran's ear:

Dad, tell me some stories about the war!

He laughed, causing the scar on his left cheek to shift and turn red.

- What's so interesting about stories of war? Telling stories of today, stories of peace, of prosperity and happiness is much more interesting! Don't you see, peace is truly beautiful!

His eyes sparkled when he spoke of peace. Although he had emerged from the smoke and fire of war, he preferred to talk about peace rather than war, because it was the aspiration of millions, the result of countless sacrifices and bloodshed.

She grew up in a peaceful country. The old veteran, who had guided her through the country's difficult times, now had gray hair, a hunched back, and a fading memory. Yet, the memories of those arduous days, marching on the battlefield, living in dark and treacherous tunnels… remained as vivid as if it were yesterday or the day before. He could still feel the soft cheeks of the girl, the comrade he loved so deeply. Each time he reminisced, his heart ached. Worried about her father's health, and fearing that he would remain forever lost in those old memories, she advised him:

- Dad, please stop dwelling on the past. Take care of your health and be happy with me. As you said, the war is over, and the suffering is gone. If you keep thinking about the past, your heart will never be at peace.

- Every era is different, Dad! Don't dwell on the bombs and bullets anymore. The war is over! Our generation will never forget the contributions of those who came before us. Peace is a well-deserved gift that you and those who returned from the war deserve.

He looked deep into his daughter's eyes. The old veteran was deeply moved that today's younger generation cherishes war memories and never forgets the past.

"Yes, I know!" he whispered. "But the memories just keep coming back. I can't control them."

She often took her father out for leisurely outings, to the beach or to the mountain towns. Every place in their country was beautiful, prosperous, and the people were kind and gentle. Every time they went together, he would praise it, saying that if both he and his wife had returned from the war, perhaps this joy would be complete. She smiled, but tears welled up in her eyes. Once, she suggested to him:

Dad, how about we go visit the tunnels?

He was stunned, looking at her, then his eyes sparkled as if he were about to return to his homeland, to the house that had sheltered him from the sun and rain, and protected so many soldiers during the war.

- Minh Hoa! You've never been there, have you?

She nodded. She had never set foot in the tunnels, not because she wasn't interested in national history, but because the tunnels held painful memories for her – memories of the time enemy bombs destroyed them, causing the deaths of many soldiers – as told by her father. Among them was her mother.

- I want to go there to see how my parents lived through those difficult yet heroic times, to understand that today's peace was achieved at the cost of the blood and lives of countless people before us.

The veteran was deeply moved. He didn't cry, because old people don't usually cry easily. But his eyes welled up with tears. She looked deep into them, seeing the years of suffering and happiness, gain and loss… that had passed. Those eyes now gazed upon the beautiful landscape, taking in the full spectrum of peace as the nation celebrated its great festival.

She took her father to visit the tunnels. The sky was a clear blue. In the historic month of April, golden sunlight bathed the winding paths. The tunnels lay beneath the green of bamboo groves. Here, after so many years, the surface still bore deep bomb craters filled with water or overgrown with wildflowers. In the heart of these craters, countless young people forever left their twenties behind, forever resting in the soil of Vietnam.

Dad, let's go down into the tunnels!

He paused for a moment, hesitating. She gently squeezed his hand, as if to encourage him to confront the past, with all its pain and the persistent memories that had clung to him for so many years of his life. Confronting pain, sometimes, is also a way to heal it.

Yes, let's go, son!

They entered the tunnels together. Glistening lights replaced the darkness of the arduous war years. Here, countless people had eaten, lived, fought, loved, endured hardships… and fallen for the peace we enjoy today.

Deep within the dark and damp tunnels, each step the girl took echoed like a whisper from the past. She gently touched the cold earthen wall, feeling the traces of years of bombs and bullets, of blood, tears, and resilient life. In this cramped space, she couldn't help but think of the word "peace"—something seemingly simple, yet bought with sacrifice. For her, peace wasn't the silence after the sound of gunfire, but the gentle breathing of a child in peaceful sleep, a home-cooked meal, sunlight filtering through the trees without being interrupted by air raid sirens.

Walking through the tunnels, she suddenly felt her heart ache with a quiet gratitude and a sincere longing: how can we ensure that peace remains in our lives?

Source: https://baophuyen.vn/sang-tac/202504/trai-tim-hoa-binh-d0a22f7/