The Lunar New Year is in my heart.

On the last afternoon of the year, the airport was bustling with people. Farewell kisses and hugs filled my heart with anticipation. A new flying season was about to begin. I was happy because I already felt the spirit of Tet (Vietnamese New Year) in my heart...

My mother likes a straight-trunked Hue apricot blossom tree like the one in front of my grandmother's house... (Image for illustration purposes only, from the Internet.)

My mother was busy mixing pickles on the stove when the phone rang. I dashed down from three flights of stairs, shouting:

- Is Big Brother coming home, Mom? Is he coming home?

Mom didn't answer, and went back to the kitchen. The phone was still on. My older brother's voice on the phone sounded tearful:

- I probably won't be able to come home, Mom, please don't be sad.

"I'm not upset at all," my mother said, almost sulking. "You're all grown up now, you can fly wherever you want. I can't control you."

I gestured to my older brother to hang up the phone, then quietly went out into the garden. In the small garden, the apricot tree, almost reaching the roof, had begun to show scattered early blossoms. My older brother planted this apricot tree during Tet before he left. It's understandable that Mom is sad. It's already been five years since my older brother left for a foreign land.

My mother could no longer work; she sat down listlessly, her apron loose, her hands trembling as she clutched them together, trying to suppress her sobs. Unlike other mothers, the words she spoke were filled with deep-seated emotions.

Actually, he wasn't born to my mother. His mother died of a serious illness when he was one year old. My mother recounted that during those years, seeing my father raising him alone, the young kindergarten teacher couldn't help but help. Sometimes she would wait for my father when he was late for work, other times she would bring my brother home to bathe and feed him, and during my father's business trips, he would leave him with the kindergarten teacher for peace of mind. My mother, from a girl in her late teens or early twenties, suddenly became a young mother. Some people, unaware of the situation, fabricated stories about my mother having a child out of wedlock and becoming a single mother, causing many to hesitate to visit and learn more. But regardless, my mother and my brother seemed to have some kind of connection, inseparable. Even when I grew up, after all these years, I still didn't know that my brother wasn't my mother's biological son.

We lived like that for many years until my father passed away. A year later, he announced to my mother that he was going to settle abroad. When she received the news, my mother was stunned, as if she had lost something immense, and was speechless.

I remember that year, my older brother bought a plum blossom tree. It was exactly as my mother had envisioned and wished: "When the new house is finished, I'll plant a plum blossom tree in this corner of the yard." At that time, I interjected, "What? There are plum blossom trees everywhere!" "No, Mom doesn't like that kind of tree. She only likes a straight-trunked Hue plum blossom tree like the one in front of Grandma's house." That's what she said, but I forgot. My mother always longed for the old days. I didn't understand her very well, I wasn't perceptive enough to notice her emotion when she remembered her hometown. But my older brother knew that ever since my mother married my father, my grandparents had turned their backs on her, a daughter who "didn't know what was right or wrong." At that time, all my mother could do was hug him, choking back tears, "I've gained something, I haven't lost anything!"

"Why are there so few buds this year, Tú?" my mother asked, squinting at the bare apricot blossom branch I had just stripped of its leaves last week, her eyesight failing to see clearly.

"They'll bloom late, Mom," I called out.

- The other day when I was weeding the leaves, I saw many tiny buds. They'll probably bloom beautifully after Tet (Vietnamese New Year).

"Well, it doesn't matter when they bloom," my mother sighed. "With you children around, every season is spring to me."

The Lunar New Year is in my heart.

With children around, every season feels like spring to me... Photo: Hoang Anh Hien.

I smiled silently, feeling sorry for my mother. I couldn't bring myself to tell her about my older brother's intentions, so I held back, tears welling up in my eyes as I looked at her. My mother worried about my brother every little detail, waiting for him every minute, every second, but he still hadn't come home.

I silently looked at the pile of pickled vegetables my mother was half-pickling and sighed.

- My older brother likes this dish the most when he's at home, Mom!

"Yes," the mother said, her voice falling, "that boy... what's the point of being in a foreign land if he can't even get a simple meal?"

"Or maybe..." I said excitedly, "I have a flight to Germany next week and then I'll come back. Mom, would you like to visit my brother with me?"

- He talks about going abroad as if he's just going to the market. You need to prepare thoroughly before you even think about going.

- It's easy, Mom. You already got your visitor visa months ago. With this visa, you're allowed to enter Germany for six months and stay for a maximum of 90 days. You should go so many times already, why do you keep putting it off...?

But I haven't prepared anything yet.

- They have everything over there, except for the home-cooked meals you make, Mom. I just crave them.

- And my child..., spending the Lunar New Year alone.

"Don't worry about me, Mom," I said, hugging my mother and smiling. "As long as you're happy, I feel like it's Tet (Vietnamese New Year)."

"You're like a bird; I really don't know what to expect from you anymore," my mother said, her voice tinged with annoyance, but her hands and feet were moving quickly.

- How about I buy Su some traditional Vietnamese dresses to wear for Tet? Vietnamese girls, no matter where they are, should have traditional clothes to remember their homeland. Her parents, who are over a year old, don't let her visit her grandmother; they just see each other through the phone.

I left my mother to deal with the hustle and bustle of shopping and preparations. She seemed determined to pack up all the traditional Tet (Lunar New Year) flavors to bring to my brother, even though I had carefully instructed her on what could be brought and what couldn't.

My older brother called again. Mom's voice brightened considerably:

- Hey son, Tú is flying over to your place the day after tomorrow, can I send him some New Year's gifts?

"Mom, you don't need to go to all that trouble," my brother said, waving his hand.

"Mom's packed them," my mother said, turning the phone to show my brother the carefully packed boxes. "Three boxes, honey. I've marked them all. Remember to check them carefully when they arrive."

Mom, that's unfair!

I peered at the screen, watching my brother wink and smile. He quickly raised his finger, signaling me not to reveal his secret. Only my mother, completely clueless, turned to me and gestured:

- You better get married and leave me alone, aren't you tired of being a freeloader forever?

"I'm not getting married. Mom, you're so strict. Would I let my wife and children suffer?" I said, then hugged my mother. "I'll just stay with you!"

"Well, I guess so," my mother sighed. "With a job that involves a lot of traveling, it's okay to get married a little later. He's born in the year of the dog but flies away before he's even finished eating the rice cake."

"Next year when I get married, I'll bring my wife to live with you, Mom," I said, then picked up my suitcase and headed for the door.

- Don't be sad, Mom, I'll be back in a few days!

- I can handle it myself; it's not your turn to worry about me.

My mother said that and then stood behind the door, watching until my figure disappeared completely. For so long, we had been so engrossed in our work that we hadn't noticed our mother living in a house that was far too spacious for her, a house she loved so much. Surely, deep down, my mother always carried some kind of emptiness that she didn't want us to worry about, so she avoided discussing it.

The Lunar New Year is in my heart.

Airports are bustling with people on those late afternoons at the end of the year... Photo: Vietnamnet.

Since my older brother left home, he's called constantly to remind me to take care of Mom. He also realizes that his decision has upset her. I don't doubt his love for Mom, but I can't fully convey his advice to her, and it just ends up being vague questions. He's long wanted to bring Mom to live with him, but every time he brings it up, Mom dismisses it. Finally, we've come to this unexpected decision.

- Mom, have you arrived yet?

- The car is almost at the airport, and you, you said we were going home, but now you're making me rush around like this.

"Mom, is this a surprise? Did you lock the door?" I asked playfully.

Okay, I'll send it all to your aunt back home.

- Good...

"Good for your head," my mother said, then hung up.

The airport was bustling with people on those last afternoons of the year. My mother's plane ticket had been electronically checked; all she needed to do was get through security. I looked at my mother and felt sorry for her; she had worked hard her whole life for her children, and even now, on this day of reunion, she was still worried about one child after another.

- Mom... Mom - I pretended to be carefree - You're so lucky!

My mother, half-laughing, half-crying, repeatedly punched me in the back:

- You guys should have given me a few days' notice so I could prepare more gifts for my grandson!

- This is a huge gift! My older brother said he only needs Mom, that having Mom is enough for Tet (Lunar New Year) - I hugged my mother - After so many years away from you, my older brother couldn't bear it anymore, Mom.

When my mother heard this, she burst into tears. Overwhelmed with longing and anticipation, she quickened her pace, as if my brother were waiting for her ahead.

I waited until the plane took off before calling my brother, full of resentment:

- I'm just lending you my mother, that's all.

"That's funny," my brother chuckled. "Mom belongs to Su now; nobody can take her away from me."

"That's quite cunning," I said, then laughed.

Tran Quynh Nga

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