And, the mist has returned…

One morning, we were suddenly met with a thick fog blanketing the land, enveloping everything in a gloomy, hazy gray. He exclaimed, "The weather's changing, the rain's over!" I mumbled something to brush it off, my mind preoccupied with the thought: "What month is it that the fog is already here?"

What month is it that the mist has already arrived? Suddenly, I realize it's almost the end of October. Another winter is approaching. I'm startled to realize another year is almost over. Time's footsteps are so long, like a giant that can traverse a year with a single step, while I myself just lurch slowly, eating and dozing off at the same time. It feels like only yesterday I was hanging out with friends at cafes, eating street food, browsing bookstores, and visiting libraries… And yet, before I know it, more than ten years have passed. I'm startled to realize I'm getting old. I'm startled to realize I'm still empty-handed. A sudden, inexplicable sadness washes over me. What month is it? What year is it? If only I could throw time into a box, put it in the refrigerator, and seal it so it would freeze forever, unable to move again. Then, we could wander freely, sleep freely, and read leisurely… We wouldn't fear getting old anymore. We no longer dread the end of the year. Isn't that better?

Then I suddenly laughed at my naive thoughts. Everything is finite, only time is infinite. Only time never ages. Accepting finitude, accepting change, accepting even loss, is the only way to hope for rebirth. Like the seasons changing throughout the year. Autumn arrives and then fades, giving way to the coming winter. The gentle, cool weather gives way to the impending cold.

It all started with the fog. The fog woke up at midnight, diligently spreading across the roads, the fields, and the entire landscape. Even the bustling highway, hot from the exhaust fumes, couldn't dispel the fog, forcing drivers to slow down and cautiously navigate. The cold mist seeped through their masks and chilled their throats. So, winter had truly arrived. The year was finally ending. A mix of sadness and joy, a sense of wistfulness and longing. They would once again see countless flowers in bloom. They would be reunited with their families. But there was also a quiet sadness because their parents' time was dwindling. Who knows when their last day will be? Therefore, the greatest sorrow for the elderly is the feeling of being passive about time, unable to make concrete plans for themselves.

What could be more poignant than the changing of seasons? Suddenly, I notice the strong scent of milk flower blossoms in the wind. Driving through familiar streets at night, I feel suffocated by the pungent smell of the flowers. I chuckle to myself, remembering how, before milk flowers were planted in this region, I used to softly hum along to the song "Milk Flower," longing to smell the magical fragrance of this flower of love. But when I finally smelled them, I'd stick out my tongue and run away because the scent was so strong and unpleasant. Truly, everything is only beautiful in our imaginations.

The weather is getting drier, and the wind has shifted direction. It won't be long before the north wind begins to blow. The season of the north wind is the season of dryness. Skin cracks and peels. Lips dry and bleed. The worst is the biting cold of the night dew. Dew hangs everywhere. It seeps through cracks into the house. The dew makes the body feel utterly exhausted. And, the dew spreads a sadness that permeates the entire land, so that every morning when you open the door, you see a murky color and can only sigh, lamenting how incredibly dense the dew is. Yet, you still like to stand absentmindedly in front of the door, gazing at the dew, and you long to pile it up, lying on top of it—surely it would be incredibly soft and cool.

One chilly, foggy morning, I rested my head on my husband's shoulder, trying to find some warmth. What could be better than sleeping in beside the one you love? It's just a hug, just warmth, but it's a strong bond between husband and wife. At times like these, I silently thank the cold fog so I can enjoy this cozy feeling with my loved one. Turns out the fog is lovely too.

Source: https://baobinhthuan.com.vn/va-suong-da-ve-114212.html