Bring home

That place is a faraway land, half a world away from Hue . But perhaps the geographical distance is no longer there when touching the familiar green images of my homeland.

“Here, the houses all have large gardens. People often plant grass and lots of roses,” you shared.

But that cool and sweet green space probably cannot fill the homesickness of those who live far away from home. So you have taken the trouble to “bring” the familiar garden of your hometown.

Busy with work and taking care of the kids, it has been a long time since I have been home in Hue, so I miss it a lot. I miss my mother's muddy hands. I miss the garden every morning when I wake up, smelling the faint fragrance of guava and jackfruit. Immersed in the mist, the strong taste of the soil. I miss the bowl of "shrimp beard cooked with squash" soup that has become a childhood lesson... You whisper, in each text message over the phone, when confiding about the vegetable garden that bears the image of your homeland.

Your little sentiment reminds me of the fruit fields of my childhood.

There, January begins with rows of young mustard greens growing rapidly. Tiny gourd seedlings that have just been planted by mother, in a flash, sprout with plump leaves as big as elephant ears. Flower buds that have just bloomed somewhere, in a flash, bear fruit, in a flash, grow so long that they touch the ground. There, May burns yellow on the sunburned skin of pumpkins, each fruit as big as a small basket. Then autumn comes with a bit of cold, tinging the rows of mustard greens vaguely, vaguely past their girlhood.

Then we grew up together with the squash and gourd. There, the years were counted by the fruit seasons, by the drops of sweat, by the mother’s shoulders with a hunched back, while the squash and gourd grew up…

That part of the homeland, has the hardships in the shape of storms and also the youthful dreams left behind through the flower seasons. That is the homeland, written in the shape of children, hidden in memories, to remember when far away, to remember to grow up to become a person….

Source: https://baothuathienhue.vn/doi-song/dem-theo-que-nha-130915.html