From the trays of flour for Tet

On my day off, I heard my neighbor's voice through the crack in the door early in the morning: "Could I borrow your front yard?" "Yes, please feel free," I said, and then I snuggled back into sleep. When the sunlight streamed through the window, I leaned out and saw the white trays of flour. I remembered my neighbor asking to borrow the front yard; it turned out she was drying flour there.

In this day and age, where a simple phone call or computer click is all it takes to get bags of flour delivered right to your door for your favorite baked goods, flour is readily available in convenience stores and local markets, ranging from high-end varieties blended with expensive agricultural products to cater to high-end customers, to more affordable options for the mid-range. Many families are accustomed to this source of flour. Few remember the familiar taste of the past, when they would bustle around the mortar and pestle during Tet (Vietnamese New Year), eagerly awaiting the finished cakes after the flour had been carefully stored away, only daring to be opened on the afternoon of the thirtieth day of the lunar month after the ritual of inviting ancestors home for the Tet celebration.

I stepped out of the house and reached into the tray of rice flour that my neighbors had been drying for Tet (Vietnamese New Year). My neighbors had recently moved from the countryside. They brought their old village way of life to the city. I learned that to get those trays of flour, they had soaked the rice since the afternoon and stayed up almost all night grinding and sifting the flour, ignoring their children's objections and concerns about their parents' health.

Life is evolving, and market conveniences are constantly changing, but we still see people meticulously crafting and carefully preparing handmade products for Tet (Lunar New Year), even though their need for food is minimal.

My neighbors' work is also hard, but it doesn't matter; they don't mind. More than anything, it symbolizes a longing for a time that was difficult but joyful, full of hope. Their trays of Tet flour awaken a flood of memories for many passersby. It reminds people not to forget the things that have been a part of us, that have nurtured us. Modern Tet is abundant, but cherishing the things associated with Tet of the past will make Tet today even more meaningful.

I stood beside my neighbor's tray of flour, lost in thought about my childhood, about a time filled with the excitement of preparing flour for Tet (Vietnamese New Year). My friends and I in the village grew up surrounded by these trays of flour. We grew up with the material values ​​of simple fried cakes and leaf-wrapped cakes, and more importantly, with the faith and anticipation of watching our mothers and grandmothers swiftly grind and drain the flour. I called my children over to see the trays of flour, hoping they would gain some experience. They would understand how meticulously and wholeheartedly their grandparents and parents prepared for Tet, rather than the hurried pace and constantly changing trends in preparing and celebrating Tet that they had witnessed and taken for granted.

Hanh Nhien

Source: https://baothanhhoa.vn/tu-nhung-nong-bot-tet-277030.htm