my brother

The terrible cancer ended his life at the age of 68, the age when he had just paid off his debts to his family and children, so that he could have a few years of leisure to enjoy his old age. His dreams were countless, such as taking care of the garden, digging a pond to raise fish, building a thatched hut, so that in the afternoon his brothers, friends, grandchildren, and children could come to play and relax.

The fruit trees he planted in the garden have already borne fruit, the first batch has just begun to sprout and spread their leaves. This year's cashew nut season seems to have been without him, so the fruit is not as plentiful as when he was alive. The cherry pond and the fish are now grown, but the scenery looks so desolate and sad!

In the afternoon, I visited him and lit three incense sticks to make the altar more warm and smoky. Looking at the plate of mangoes she had just picked from the garden to offer him, it was his. Come back and taste the first fruit of the season that he planted. Is it sweet or sour?!

The afternoon turned to rain, the sky was cloudy, the gloomy wind blew coldly all around. The stone table under the plum tree, where my brothers and I and our friends from the neighborhood often sat and chatted, was now empty, with only dry plum leaves and a black cat curled up in a corner.

Brothers miss you, friends miss you, neighbors miss you. Remember the name Bay Den every time he was tipsy, "Love of Quang region". Remember the bag of boiled corn you brought from home to Doi Duong to give to your friends to eat and have fun on the day of class reunion. Remember the late Tet holidays at Dinh river, remember the braised fish with turmeric, remember the pickled melon you made. Remember the roasted peanuts you brought on the bus from Binh Thuan, sitting and chewing all the way to Quang Nam and still not finished.

He did not have much education, but he had many talents. Seeing people weaving bamboo baskets, he could weave them after just a few glances. Seeing artists drawing portraits, he bought paper, rulers, and ink to draw just like a real artist. He could sew trousers, shirts, and even embroider. He was also very good at writing prose and speaking.

But it was just for fun, nothing professional. His main job was farming, a real farmer without any mix. He raised 6 children from young to adulthood, and raised them during the subsidy period, a time when the economy was very difficult, with a hoe, a flock of free-range chickens, a few pigs and potatoes, corn, beans, cashews... now all 6 children have their own families, stable lives.

Speaking of his hardships in raising children, I still remember two stories that he used to tell me every time he was a little drunk. The stories were no less than Ngo Tat To's Chi Dau period.

Around 1978 - 1979, when his family was still in the new economic zone of Ta Pao in Huy Khiem commune, Tanh Linh district, Thuan Hai province (now Binh Thuan). This was a new economic zone established in 1976, most of the people who came to settle down were from Quang Nam and Quang Tri. During the subsidy period, they worked in cooperatives, with equal pay and grading, and newly opened wasteland, and blocked rivers and markets, so there were constant illnesses and hunger, especially during the harvest season and traditional New Year.

He said that year, his family had 5 mouths to feed, on the 24th of Tet, there was no rice or sweet potato left, his wife had to carry a tray to borrow from the neighborhood, but it was only temporary, because in fact, everyone in the family was in need and suffering, so there was no surplus to lend. Well, it was okay to endure and pack it like that. But looking at the children, all of their clothes were tattered, it broke our hearts. On the evening of the 25th of Tet, the couple sat with their knees propped up, thinking of what to sell to buy their children new clothes so they could have fun during Tet with their friends.

Thinking back and forth, he decided to take his old trousers, the green khaki trousers he wore when he was in high school before liberation. Later, he got married, went to the new economic zone, and worked hard in the fields all day. The trousers became a souvenir lying quietly in the corner of the closet. The trousers had cracks at the buttocks, but because he rarely wore them, they didn't look too bad. He cut off the two pant legs, untied the thread, turned them inside out, and oh my, they were still brand new. He lit the lamp, diligently measured, cut, and sat diligently sewing until morning. So this Tet, Ý Anh had "new" trousers. He was so happy, and he was less worried!

As for the two daughters' clothes, he discussed with his wife about bringing the dog to Phuong Lam to sell for money, and if there was any left over, they could buy candy to make the children happy.

There was no other way, I felt sorry for the "wild" dog that had been loyal to the family for so many years, but I had to give up!

At dawn on the 27th of Tet, he called the dog to feed, petted it for the last time, then put the dog in a cage, tied it to the back of his old bicycle. The road from Ta Pao to Phuong Lam was far away, the weather was close to Tet, the mountain road was deserted, he bent his back to pedal, trying to get to Phuong Lam in time while there were still buyers. At noon, the sun was scorching, sweat was pouring, just past Duc Linh, he suddenly felt cold. What he did not think of, on the other side of the border, a checkpoint appeared, the "red tape" men loomed. He knew that if he carried the dog through the checkpoint, it would definitely be confiscated or taxed, and if so, what would he have to buy for Tet for his children. Should he carry the dog back? After thinking for a long time, he exclaimed: - How stupid, the dog is my dog, just let it go, far from home here it will definitely have to follow me. Thinking is doing, he parked the bike, took the cage down, untied the rope, let the dog out, rolled a cigarette, puffed, and leisurely carried the cage without passing the station, the dog wagging its tail and running after him.

Having escaped miraculously, he cycled far away from the station, then parked the bike on the side of the road waiting for the dog to come. The dog was happy with its owner, its tail tucked in, its head buried in its owner's lap. At this point, the feeling of joy at its escape was almost gone, replaced by remorse and indescribable sadness. He shed tears, petted the dog, then gently put it in the cage like at dawn at home. On the way to Phuong Lam market, he was like a lost soul, feeling sorry for his two children with torn clothes, feeling sorry for the dog that had been his loyal friend for so many years. It wasn't until someone came to pay for the dog, he decided to sell it immediately, to sell it to end it, to end this heartbreaking scene. The person who bought the dog took the dog away, the dog looked at him, he looked at the dog, in the eyes of both the person and the animal there were salty tears.

That year, my children got new clothes and some candy. But I carried sadness until the day I closed my eyes!

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