Spring is still here.

The wheels rolled slowly over the large and small ruts as the ground hardened under the last rays of the December sun. Binh pointed, saying that when the water receded, the mud here would be knee-deep. The mud was icy cold; a chill ran down his spine as he dipped his foot into it. That day, he had abandoned his motorbike on the highway and crossed the fields to get home after the devastating flood. The yellow mud covered the fields and the village, bringing tears to his eyes.

An gazed across the lush green fields, searching for traces of the floods from months ago. The rice stalks swayed in the breeze, and An inhaled the scent of young rice mixed with the earthy smell of mud. Suddenly, the car screeched to a halt in front of a field, and Binh cupped his hands to his mouth, shouting, "Dad, I'm home!"

The man, who had been bending over tending the rice seedlings, quickly straightened up, parted the rice stalks, waded ashore, hastily splashed water to wash his mud-covered hands, and then wiped them on his shirt. His eyes rested on An, who had been standing shyly beside him without speaking.

- Dad, this is An, my friend from the city. She's home for Tet this year.

An softly greeted her father, Binh. There was a fleeting joy, like a gust of wind sweeping across his wrinkled face, etched with many worries. He told the two children to go home and rest, saying he would finish tending the rice crop and then come back.

2. Two weeks ago, Binh hesitantly said, "Maybe An should just visit her father after Tet. My house is completely flooded, and my belongings are wet and damaged. When the flood came, no house in my neighborhood had a roof visible." Binh sighed, "This year, our relatives in the countryside will probably have a sad Tet, so let's postpone your visit!"

An, with her round, dove-like eyes, asked, "Then why don't we go back to Dad?" When the flood came, An cried along with Binh when she saw him numbly drop his phone after a call from his father. His father said the water had risen to his calves, and he and little Minh had to flee. That was the first time in four years of knowing each other that An had seen the strong man cry. He sat all night on the balcony, gazing out at the shimmering city lights. In just one night, An saw him age considerably. At four in the morning, he hastily grabbed his backpack and boarded the first bus back to his father...

...He repeated several times, "Maybe we should take our time going home," but An was resolute. An had been preparing for the first meeting for a whole year. She asked what his father liked, how tall Minh was so she could buy him a new outfit for Tet, and which day he would visit his grandparents on Tet... An asked if he had a five-fruit offering during Tet in Central Vietnam, or if he went to the temple to pick lucky branches at the beginning of the year? An's eagerness and excitement made Binh feel that Tet was just around the corner, even though the calendar on the wall only showed October that day.

3. The dog wagged its tail vigorously as the motorbike sped past the gate. Minh, who was busy wiping the wooden table and chairs, dropped the cleaning cloth and rushed out into the yard to greet his brother.

- Ah... Big brother, big brother is home.

Then Minh looked at An mischievously: "Is this my sister-in-law, brother?"

Binh gently tapped An's forehead and quickly nodded. An timidly stepped into the old house. Yellowish water stains clung to the wall near the dark, weathered tile roof. The house was tidy, but some corners were empty. The brand-new items seemed out of place with the other furnishings. In the middle of the room sat a wooden table and chairs. Binh gently took An's hand and led her inside, telling her to sit down and rest. This time, he had given up his motorbike so that he could take An to the market. Minh innocently held up a rag and complained, "Why didn't the flood wash away this dragon-carved wooden chair so I wouldn't have to wipe it, Sister?" The two words "Sister" sounded so endearing. Minh was in 8th grade; her mother had passed away when she was still in kindergarten.

Minh glanced at the clock, then startled, he quickly ran to plug in the rice cooker. An followed him to the kitchen, watching her younger brother hunched over the fish by the tap. “Sister, do you want braised or fried fish? I’ll braise some fish with pineapple for you.” An smiled, sat down by the tap, and offered to help. Minh protested, “No way! I’ll treat you today, but from now on, I’ll let you have the kitchen.”

The kitchen was pitifully simple. A few pots hung on the wall, and some makeshift jars of cooking oil and fish sauce. Next to the gleaming gas stove was a three-legged stand with a few dying embers of firewood. Binh recounted that his father had told Minh to take him to buy a new stove as soon as he knew they would have guests for Tet (Lunar New Year). His father worked in the fields all day, and Minh, after school, took on the cooking duties. Fried fish and boiled eggs were enough to get them through the day.

Minh chopped wood to start a fire, then bent down and blew on it repeatedly until the flames finally flared up. A few wisps of smoke rose and clung to the smoke-stained walls. Minh's long, lanky hands poured a large spoonful of salt into the pot, chattering, "Braised tuna is the best! When there's fresh fish at the market, I'll buy some to make noodle soup for you, Sister Hai!" An asked, "Why didn't you add some pepper and onions for extra flavor?" Minh scratched his head and said, "I just cooked it randomly. We've been short on onions and pepper for days, and I forgot to bring them home from school."

The dog outside yelped happily. Dad came home from the fields. He put down his hoe on the porch and went to the well to wash his hands and feet. Suddenly, An felt awkward, standing hesitantly at the doorstep. Dad smiled kindly and told An to treat him like his own home and not be shy. He said that after eating, he had to go straight to the fields; it would take another two days to finish replanting the rice seedlings. Once the seedlings were replanted, they would spread some fertilizer and then they could rest assured and go ashore to celebrate Tet. He told An that this was the way of farming families. Today, they were very busy in the fields, some spreading fertilizer, others pulling weeds and replanting rice seedlings. They couldn't rest easy celebrating Tet until the work in the fields was finished!

4. The weather was bitterly cold at the end of the twelfth lunar month. In the morning, looking out from inside the house, the fog hung like a curtain between heaven and earth. Unaccustomed to the weather, An huddled by the doorway in her bulky padded jacket. Her father had gone to the fields at dawn. An shivered at the thought of her father's bare feet plunging deep into the water, freezing cold. Last night, while her father was talking about family matters, An looked down at his large, calloused feet and felt immense pity for him.

Seeing An sitting in front of the door, Binh joked, "Who was so excited yesterday about going to the market early this morning, and now they're shivering like this?" Suddenly remembering the market trip, An sat up and told Binh to take her there immediately. Dew dampened her eyelids, and along the way, glimpses of women going to the market early with their carrying poles on their shoulders could be seen. Bundles of vegetables, still damp with dew, peeked out from the baskets with a few clumps of bright yellow marigolds and a few bunches of colorful chrysanthemums… Binh's voice choked up as he said that his mother used to carry vegetables to the market. The backyard of his house was always lush with sweet potato leaves, and during Tet (Vietnamese New Year), there were also cabbage, onions, and cilantro. In the afternoons, his mother would pull up the cabbage, strip the banana fibers, and tie them into bundles to sell at the market. When he was very young, his mother would put him in one side of the basket, and the vegetables on the other end as she carried them to the market. While his mother sold the vegetables, he would sit and play in the dirt.

It was still early morning, but the village market was already bustling with people. Several banana leaves were stacked on the ground, covered with bright yellow marigolds. Binh said those were for people buying them for the New Year's Eve offering. The market was filled with the smell of pickled onions and shallots. Children's colorful dresses fluttered in the wind, beckoning customers. Binh said the market got busier as Tet approached. On the 29th and 30th, there was no room to squeeze through. Even though they had bought all their supplies, they still loved going to the market to breathe in the scent of Tet.

He said that back then, every Tet holiday, his mother would take him to the tailor to have a new outfit made: blue pants and a white shirt. On the first day of Tet, he would wear the brand-new outfit to light incense for his ancestors. After celebrating Tet, he would wear that same outfit to school. Every year it was the same, always the same blue pants and white shirt, and he was so excited. During Tet, his mother would also make pickled vegetables and pork marinated in fish sauce for the three of them… He wiped his nose with his hand, ignoring An when she realized he was missing his mother.

An went to a corner of the market, picking up a bunch of plump, tender chrysanthemum greens. She thought to herself, "I'll buy a few fresh shrimp later to make soup; Minh will surely love it." The vendor rearranged the greens, looked up, saw Binh, and slapped her thigh. "Good heavens, Binh! Didn't you recognize me?" Binh chuckled, saying he wanted to surprise Aunt Ba. He introduced her to An as Aunt Ba, his father's younger sister.

She chuckled, saying that after the flood, her house was nothing but mud. Soft mud covered the bare floor, the vegetable garden, and the guava orchard, up to her knees. But she couldn't just sit there crying. She waited for the mud to settle, then built raised beds, sowed lettuce, onion, and cilantro seeds, and covered them with banana leaves. A few days later, she lifted the banana leaves and the vegetables had sprouted. There was no fertilizer better than the fertile soil of the earth. She gently tapped An's hand, saying, "Hey, come over to my house at the end of the village to pick some vegetables. Oh, come over on the 30th to my house to make sticky rice cakes. This year, because of the flood, we'll have a small Tet celebration; two or three families will pool their resources to make one pot for fun. Neighbors and the commune officials have also helped me rebuild my new home."

5. An laid out a pile of brand-new basins and baskets in the middle of the house. There were shallots, red onions, radishes, and carrots. An cut off the roots of each shallot, peeled off the outer white skin, and placed them in a basin of salt water. Binh and his brother stood there for a moment, then joined in to help. In Binh's clumsy hands, the shallots became stubby. An showed him how to cut them longer for a nicer appearance, and peel off another layer of skin to keep them white. Later, An would carve the carrots into five-petaled plum blossom shapes, trim the radishes into serrated edges… guaranteeing their jar of pickled shallots would be the most beautiful in the neighborhood.

- Sister, you look exactly like Mom. I heard Dad say that Mom used to make pickled vegetables with meat marinated in fish sauce too. It's a shame I was too young back then and don't remember anything...

Binh sniffled, changing the subject, saying, "The onions from Ly Son are incredibly spicy." Then he gazed intently at his lover.

- How do you know how to make pickled vegetables? We don't have this dish in the city.

An laughed: "It's so easy, everything's on YouTube. I've been researching all night. Not only pickled vegetables, but I also make meat marinated in fish sauce and many other dishes."

Father returned from the fields. He stood for a long time, gazing at the basket of pickled onions and cucumbers drying in front of the house. It had been a long time since he'd smelled that pungent, strong aroma in his yard. In the days leading up to Tet (Lunar New Year), he often felt melancholic. He thought that sadness would disappear amidst the rain and sun of the fields, but whenever Tet approached and he saw the fires burning in other people's kitchens, the sadness would resurface. Hearing the lively sounds of laughter and conversation inside the house, he set up his hoe, a smile spreading across his face.

6. An sat on the back of the motorbike, her hands tightly clutching two pots of marigolds. Several other pots of bright yellow flowers hung from the front of the bike. On the morning of the 30th, little Minh's eyes widened as he watched An carry home a variety of flowers. An meticulously cut and arranged them, placing a beautiful vase of flowers on her mother's altar...

The car slowly drove along the road in the middle of the field. The road was full of large and small ruts as the fresh mud dried and was leveled. Binh said that after the flood, the villagers had already cleaned up once, and now, with Tet approaching, they were cleaning up again to make everything smooth. An watched the swallows leisurely perched on the power lines, preening their feathers in the dry, late-year sunlight.

Binh, holding pots of marigolds, turned towards the cluster of graves at the foot of the mountain. His mother was buried there. An reached out to weed the grave and neatly arranged the flower pots on either side. The two sat for a long time by the grave. Binh said that since his mother passed away, he had lost all sense of the Lunar New Year. Every year at the end of the year, he would book a bus ticket home to see his father and little Minh so they wouldn't be so sad, because celebrating the New Year anywhere was the same anyway…

"But things are different now! You've brought the Lunar New Year to me, to Minh, to my family... The kitchen has been as warm these past few days as it was when Mom was still here!" Binh held An's hand tightly.

A motorbike stopped at the foot of the mountain. A woman carrying two flower pots headed towards the grave. Binh squinted to get a better look; it was Aunt Ba. Uncle Ba's grave was also here; most of the villagers were buried here when they passed away. Aunt Ba nodded in greeting to the two children, then used the hem of her dress to wipe away the mud stains on the tombstone. Smoke from the incense sticks drifted in the hazy afternoon light.

"So when are you two getting married? Let's wait until after the Lunar New Year..." Aunt Ba's unexpected question made An blush. Her voice lowered as she looked into the distance: "This place is so far away, and it floods all the time. Aren't you worried about that?"

An's hand was warm in Binh's: "Yes, it's really far. But the further it is, the more I love this land and its people, Auntie Ba."

Aunt Ba smiled gently, "That's right, all that matters is loving each other." She said, "This place floods every year, but after the last flood, the villagers go back to the fields to plow the freezing rice paddies. This year the flood was so big, everyone thought there was no time for Tet (Lunar New Year). But planting vegetables, buying marigolds, preparing the ancestral altar—it makes us feel like we still have Tet to hope for…"

The year-end wind was gently chilly. Aunt Ba urged the two children to come to her house to light a warm fire to welcome the New Year. Wisps of smoke drifted lazily from afar. It seemed someone had just burned offerings for the year-end ceremony. With the new year upon us, all sorrows and troubles were released into the sky, light as clouds and smoke.

NGUYEN THI NHU HIEN

Source: https://www.sggp.org.vn/van-con-co-xuan-post837667.html