Grapefruit flowers in the past…

“Jasmine, pomegranate, and starfruit flowers/How can they compare to the long-lasting, gentle fragrance of grapefruit flowers?” I copied the above folk song into the back of my notebook and memorized it when I was fourteen or fifteen years old, when we were still in the same school and class, and on days off from school, we often gathered, set up tables, and sat around the grapefruit tree to help each other with our homework. I still remember that in the afternoons, after studying together, we would climb up the star fruit tree next to the pond full of purple water lilies to pick the fruit, cut it up and dip it in salt. The sour star fruit made everyone frown, but we liked it. After eating it, we teased and joked, some even paired up, chased each other, and punched each other on the back, while the sunlight had faded and the scent of grapefruit flowers filled the yard.

I still remember the time she borrowed me a book with a beautiful love story, many details related to grapefruit flowers. When she returned the book to me, she thanked me, praised the story, and then softly said: In the future...

What about tomorrow? I asked again, but she didn’t answer, just looked at me with a very strange look. Back then, when I was still very young, I didn’t know what that look and vague words contained. I only knew that from then on, I liked the scent of grapefruit flowers even more and liked being near and talking to her more. Many times I pretended to come and ask for leaves for my mother to cook with soapberry to wash my hair or came and asked for grapefruit flowers for my father to make tea. I got used to the grapefruit tree with its rough spots and each time I came, I lingered, only to feel empty when I left.

Then, when the school years had not yet ended, the war came. The US had sent troops to the South and the resistance war began to rage fiercely. Villages were devastated. Tile-roofed and thatched houses were burned down. Fields were abandoned and full of grass. Bamboo banks and gardens were barren. Everywhere was full of artillery and bomb craters. Some villagers evacuated to the city, others hid in the forest to stay. The sound of gunfire and bombs made us seem older than our age, and after a while, I became a liaison, then escaped and became a nurse serving in a military hospital located on a high mountain. As for us boys, some joined the army, some joined the guerrillas, some were sent by their superiors to cross Truong Son to continue studying in the North.

The day the country was at peace, I returned to my hometown after many years away. But she, my old school friend, was no longer there, only a single photo was left, taken by a war correspondent while she was in the forest. She was ambushed by the enemy and sacrificed her life while she was with some nurses in the unit going down to the plains to carry rice, leaving only a photo that a comrade brought back to give to her family... At the thatched roof, her youngest sister told me: "Every time I went down to the plains for work, I stopped by the house, and she asked if you were back...".

The war has been over for half a century. My hometown has developed a lot now, everywhere is spacious and beautiful. This year, at the end of spring, I returned to visit my hometown. My family's garden now has many grapefruit trees and all are blooming, giving off a fragrant scent. I stood there for a long time, hesitantly, at the end of the yard, as if time had never passed, as if somewhere here was the time when we were in the same class, in the same school...

TRAN NINH THO

Source: https://baokhanhhoa.vn/van-hoa/202504/hoa-buoi-ngay-xua-2bd2bb8/