Many times I asked my second brother to let me go back to the mountain. He silently turned away. Every time I asked to go back to the mountain, he found a reason to refuse, either he was busy on a business trip far away, or his health was not good so he could not drive me back. I looked at him, tears welling up in my eyes. The house was quiet.
Once, and many times being rejected by my brother, I decided to go back to the mountain alone.
The road to Ha mountain is far away. Past Ha town to the Northwest, the road winds and curves between towering cliffs, Ha mountain appears through the window. In my eyes, Ha mountain is always majestic and poetic, especially in late winter and early spring. At that time, the mountain shimmers with the green of grass and trees, the red, purple, yellow, and white of many flowers growing from the crevices of the rocks. I lower the window and take a deep breath of the mountain air that I have longed for and wished for. Returning to the mountain, I feel so happy and loved. The thought of leaving everything belonging to the city to return to the mountain burns like a flame. I will return to Ha mountain peacefully and lean my back against the mountain, sadly having the mountain caress me…
My father’s grave is located halfway up the mountain. The wild grass has not grown for a long time, taller than a person. I used my hand to push the grass aside, opening a path to step deeper inside. My father’s grave is hidden among the forest trees that are blooming in various colors this season, with a gentle fragrance, but I don’t care. I feel sorry because the grass has blocked my father’s view. When he was still with us, my father liked to stand at a safe high point on the mountain, looking far away. The green rice fields and rice fields under the blue sky, with floating clouds. The scenery of my homeland was captured in my sight. My father often looked at the mountain and smiled gently, his hand stroking my head. The moment I saw my father’s smile, my heart was warm and I still thought that I would always have my father and Ha Mountain in my life.
***
It seemed like my father was anticipating a long journey. Before closing his eyes, he used all his remaining strength to place my hand in my brother's palm, tears welling up in his eyes. My father could not say a word, but I guessed that he was telling my brother to protect me for the rest of my life. I buried my face in my brother's shoulder, tears streaming down my face. My brother held my hand tightly, as if making a promise to my father.
The day we left Ha Mountain, my second brother took me to visit my father’s grave again. While he was saying something in front of my father’s grave that I couldn’t hear clearly, I scooped up some soil and planted a bunch of white flowers in front of my father’s grave, hoping that spring would bloom. My second brother took me out of the mountain, telling me that no matter how difficult it was, he would take care of me so that I could have a full education, a peaceful life, and not have to face any uncertainties. We returned to the city. The distant mountain silhouettes were behind us…
I don't blame you for not returning to Ha mountain. I understand that each person has their own knot in their heart.
My brother and I were both born in the mountains. When we were young, our village was located at the foot of the mountain, beautiful and poetic as if it came out of a fairy tale that my father told me. The village was most beautiful in the spring. At that time, flowers bloomed all over the Ha mountain. Every night, the village was filled with the melodies of the mountains and forests, and under the firelight, the boys and girls of the village sang and danced together. Our village was beautiful, and would have remained beautiful forever, if the flood had not come that autumn.
In my memory and my second brother's, the flood swept away life, leaving behind devastation. The flood buried countless houses and lives. That time, my father brought me to a safe high mound, waiting for the flood to pass. Then my father suddenly saw a small figure fluttering. My second brother survived because my father rushed into the terrifying rushing water, luckily catching his hand. Then both my father and my second brother got stuck on a tree trunk that was still standing in the middle of the raging water. My father held his hand tightly to prevent the flood from sweeping him away. Protecting him so that the rocks and soil from the water would not hit him. I sat on the high mound, crying and waiting. After that flood, my village changed a lot. I had my second brother because he lost his whole family. Also from that flood, my father's health declined and not long after that, we lost him.
***
I know he still loves Ha Mountain, loves his hometown, but the memories of the past are deeply engraved in him. Returning to Ha Mountain is a challenge for him. I know the pain in him has never been at peace. Because he lost his whole family and his father, who protected him not for long but with his life. As for me, standing before Ha Mountain, which has stood tall through many changes, I see the cracks caused by the flood have now healed. Ha Mountain is green again, majestic and peaceful in the afternoon sun.
I left my father’s grave and followed the path down the mountain. There was a small house nestled beside a small stream, its doors still locked. The smell of kitchen smoke from the village wafted into the air, white smoke rising through the gaps between the tiles and above the roof, drifting slowly in the afternoon, blending into the deep mist.
I looked up to the top of Ha mountain and I saw my second brother slowly walking down the mountain, from the direction of my father's grave...
Short story: HOANG KHÁNH DUY
Source: https://baocantho.com.vn/tua-vao-da-nui-a194750.html
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