And thirty-five years later

She remembers vividly the day they got married. He packed their clothes into a suitcase and told her they were going to Da Lat the next morning for their honeymoon. For young people today, a honeymoon means enjoying privacy in a beautiful city, sometimes even renting a luxurious room at a resort in Da Lat, Ba Ria - Vung Tau , Nha Trang, or Sa Pa to truly enjoy themselves, with every phone capable of taking pictures and countless beauty apps to post on Facebook or Zalo like movie stars. But their honeymoon back then didn't have a single commemorative photo because they didn't have a camera, a phone that could take pictures, or Facebook. However, going on a honeymoon was a rare occurrence back then.

Back then, wedding parties were held at home, neighbors came over to help with the cooking. Some people attended the wedding without bringing gifts, while others gave dishes, cups, notebooks… and even a poem. After the wedding, the couple only had a little money for a trip, so they chose to stay at her aunt's house. Now, looking back, she says, "It's funny, isn't it?" And it really was funny when, at night, the two of them were arranged to sleep in separate places, like they were isolated. And at that time, while strolling through the clothing stores in Hoa Binh area, she kept admiring a very beautiful light purple coat hanging in a fashion shop, but she didn't have the money to buy it. He blurted out to her that one day, when he had money, he would buy it for her.

Life went on, day after day, month after month. The couple forgot about their first trip to Da Lat. Years later, their aunt's house, where they used to live, was sold, and a new house was built, with new owners. The memory of their first trip to Da Lat gradually faded into the past as they worried about so many things in life, raising their two children until they grew up and started their own families. In their free time, they would choose to go to Da Lat again. Every year, they would ride their motorbike to Da Lat on their wedding anniversary, or sometimes just to see the wild sunflowers blooming or the cool weather and blossoming peach trees. And of course, unlike back then, they didn't sleep in separate rooms; instead, they would choose a small, quiet hotel to rest in and then explore the nooks and crannies of Da Lat together. Their trips to Da Lat now were full of joy and convenience. Sometimes he would rent a room at a resort, where the grounds were full of flowers and grass, the room overlooking a beautiful garden with winding gravel paths and swings covered in flowers. This brought back memories of their honeymoon, when they stayed at their aunt's house, a small, unromantic wooden house.

And yet, it's been over 35 years together. Those thirty-five years were filled with arguments that threatened separation, but we always made up quickly. When we were young, he easily skipped meals, but now, even when angry with me, he still sits down to eat on time. When we were young, angry with him, I'd take my bike to the beach, find a stone bench, and sit there sobbing to ease my sadness. When we were angry with each other, the house was so quiet that even the gentle breeze rustling through the window made a sound. He was always the first to apologize, saying that being angry with each other made us very sad. Over the years, even when we didn't have money, it didn't matter. I'd run a small shop selling sweets and snacks at the market, while he'd deliver goods. On those days selling at the market, we were both incredibly hardworking, leaving at dawn and returning home when it was already dark. There were no holidays or anniversaries then. I'd say, "We're old now, what's the point of holidays, honey?"

Young people these days live differently than they used to. They throw lavish birthday parties at fancy restaurants, even before they've officially started dating, and of course, there are tons of flowers. Seeing this, for his wife's birthday, he ordered a beautiful bouquet from a flower shop. He pretended to be away that day, but when he returned, she grumbled, "You're wasting so much money! We're old now, giving flowers like that is ridiculous." Since then, he hasn't dared to give her a bouquet of flowers again. He only buys things she likes, like lipstick, handbags, shampoo... and of course, only within their budget, or he lowers the price just to avoid her complaining about the cost.

So, thirty-five years have passed since they started their marriage. Their children live far away, occasionally calling home, or returning quickly during the summer or holidays. Their house has just the two of them and a large yard filled with all kinds of flowers. He takes care of the flowers, while she waters them daily. The flowers are strange; with someone to care for them, they seem to bloom silently, adding beauty to a corner of the yard. He comes home from work and tells her stories, both happy and sad. She stays home, managing the household, sometimes attending a charity club or gathering with old school friends on the first day of the week, sharing a few old stories to brighten their day.

Then they celebrated their 35th wedding anniversary. By their 35th anniversary, they were both quite old, and it was also her birthday that they "combined" to avoid having two separate celebrations a few days apart – that's what she said, she's naturally thrifty. Their two daughters, who live far away, always remember their parents' anniversary, sending flowers a day in advance so their parents can go somewhere. It's become a habit that brings joy and strengthens the family bond. When the flowers arrived early, he said, "We're going to Da Lat."

It was the same trip to Da Lat as always, on that familiar motorbike. The road was also very familiar, with every stop along the way. At the foot of Khanh Le Pass was Ben Loi restaurant, and after the pass was a small cafe on a steep slope in Long Lanh town. This season, the peach blossoms and wild sunflowers hadn't bloomed yet, but the sky was clear and blue, and countless white reeds bloomed along the pass, welcoming us. The motorbike entered Da Lat, circled Xuan Huong Lake, and as usual, he turned onto Bui Thi Xuan Street to check into a familiar hotel. This time was different; he continued on to Tuyen Lam Lake, where a beautiful resort was already before her. She got off the motorbike, smiling, "People usually come to resorts by car, but we're on a motorbike." He stroked her hair; it had been a long time since he'd stroked her hair.

He had already made the dinner reservation, without telling her beforehand because she was very thrifty and said there was no need to be extravagant. Candles flickered, the night sky over Da Lat was illuminated by moonlight, and the music was soft, soothing instrumental melodies. In front of them, Tuyen Lam Lake shimmered with lights, and they looked like young lovers.

She and he clinked glasses of rich red wine. He stood up, went to her, hugged her, and asked, "Are you cold?" She replied, "It's very cold in Da Lat." Quite unexpectedly, he picked up a box tied with a red ribbon from the table nearby; she had seen it but hadn't paid attention. He whispered, "After 35 years of marriage, I've finally been able to buy you this gift." It was a beautiful coat, just like the dream she had 35 years ago when they went to Da Lat together and dreamed of owning a coat. Only after 35 years could he finally give her the gift she longed for.

Source