Chestnut scent

March is a fragile month. Hurriedly walking after school, somewhere there is a strange yet familiar scent. Tears well up in my eyes as I search for memories. That scent, that flower color, those peaceful afternoons have faded away with time, but in a deep corner of my soul, everything is still anchored. The scent of chestnut flowers - the scent of childhood! The scent emanating from the simple green and yellow petals has the power to hold the footsteps of so many people.

Chestnut scent

Illustration: LNDUY

Seeing the scent of chestnut flowers again amidst the hustle and bustle of the city, suddenly the corners of my eyes sting. School age quietly passes by the vast slopes of purple sim hills. Adolescence only knows how to charm with the scent of chestnut flowers every March. Many people compare chestnut flowers to a sweet fruit.

Initially green, absorbing the sun, rain and hardships of the years, the soft petals turn to the color of the immense sunlight.

Then, after all the silent waiting, the flowers turned into a velvety deep yellow. Amidst the vast mountain scent, those clusters of green mixed with dark yellow were so bewildered and pitiful, silently exuding an unmistakable scent.

I picked a small chestnut flower as soon as it bloomed, clipped it to my three-leaf bag and hid it behind my thick hair so that in the afternoon I could smell the sweet fragrance wafting down the winding alley along the slope. Sometimes I kept a few dried chestnut flowers in my pocket and a few pressed in my notebook right after picking them.

We grow up with the days. Leaving that peaceful countryside, we have become young women. Occasionally, cleaning up old memories, seeing dried chestnut flowers again, I am filled with memories of my childhood.

Mother spoke about that flower in a sad voice. The fragile chestnut flower symbolized the pure love of a country girl for a prince from a wealthy family. The harsh prejudices of etiquette kept them apart. The girl, out of longing and regret, turned into a wild flower with a strange fragrance that made many people linger when they parted.

Many seasons have passed quietly, but this afternoon, that simple scent has slowed down my steps. The green and yellow colors hidden in the sunlight make my heart flutter once more. I stand absent-mindedly on the sidewalk, pressing my hand against my cheek to let my memories return with the scent, to let my dream also be filled with the scent of chestnuts. And then in that dream, I absentmindedly encounter the old verses: "Golden apricots like ripe fruit/A bunch of chestnuts hanging somewhere/The wind carries a strange fragrance/The road to school is bustling..."

Life makes us busy every day. The rain and sunshine outside have forced us to pack everything away in a corner of our hearts, only daring to turn it over when night falls. Sometimes we sob and blame ourselves for being so heartless! Have we forgotten our childhood?

Have you forgotten the vast hillsides of purple sim and yellow chestnut flowers? Time is imprinted in the eyes, time is imprinted on each strand of hair that has turned the color of the afternoon. But fortunately, deep in the nostalgic land, there are still intact the red dusty roads along the slopes with chestnut trees that produce yellow flowers with a very unique, unmistakable scent. It is not easy to forget a flower in our childhood memories.

The city today also has the faint scent of chestnut flowers. Chestnuts are grown in home gardens. The small clusters of flowers still tirelessly spread their fragrance. Those clusters of light green mixed with dark yellow sometimes make people far from home bewildered in the midst of the bustling city. And this afternoon, there was such a person who greedily inhaled the scent of childhood, melting away his homesickness.

The afternoon gradually falls. Life is so gentle and peaceful. The scent of childhood once again brings us back to old memories, back to the sweet dreams of pure youth. In the hustle and bustle of the distant city, we vaguely meet again the familiar sounds of a passionate, immense harmony.

Thien Lam

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