Take pictures with mom Tet 2024
This year's Tet is special to me. The story is that before Tet, while cleaning the house, I accidentally found my mother's old ao dai lying quietly in a small drawer.
The white ao dai, printed with red, blue, and yellow stereoscopic patterns, still looked brand new, just like in my memories of those Tet holidays, just like in the old photos my mother took that I often looked at in the family photo album. The ao dai evoked in me so many emotions of a time of hardship.
That was the shirt my mother bought thirty years ago. At that time, my hometown was still a poor village, the village road was dirt, in the distance there were a few thatched houses standing alone in the middle of vast fields and rivers.
At that time, not many people owned their own ao dai. Women probably only wore ao dai on the most important day of their lives - their wedding day. And my mother was the same, the first ao dai she owned was made from a piece of fabric that her grandmother gave her on the engagement day.
Mom said this as a custom, on the day of the matchmaking, among the gifts the groom's family brings to the bride's family, there must be a piece of fabric given to the bride to make a new ao dai for the wedding day.
Mom wearing Ao Dai in 1994 at the photo studio
In January 1974, in a pink ao dai, my mother became a new bride, following my father to Long Dien Dong. This land of salty water and sour fields relied on a single harvest season all year round, when the rains came. If the rice crop was good and the price was high, they could survive until the next season. But if there were pests, diseases, or crop failures, my mother and father had to run around a little bit to take care of their children's food, clothing, and education.
Then, it was not until Tet 1994, when her youth was over, when she was already the mother of three children, that she was able to wear the ao dai again (at this time, thanks to an acquaintance's introduction, she went to cook for the kitchen of a shrimp factory in Gia Rai).
During those twenty years, many times when going to the Tet market, my mother hesitated and looked at the new fabrics hanging on the stalls and thought. But then new clothes for her children, cakes and candies to buy for Tet... and a million other things quickly dispelled her thoughts of a new ao dai every spring.
But the second ao dai in my mother's life was not a new one, not tailored to my mother's specifications, because it was bought from a pile of "second-hand clothes" dumped on the sidewalk in front of Ho Phong market for twenty-five thousand dong, also on the day near Tet when my mother went to the market to buy food to cook for the workers.
I asked my mother why she didn’t sew new clothes instead of buying old ones. She said she was… tired of money. Her monthly salary was more than three hundred thousand, if she bought fabric and paid for the tailoring, one outfit would cost seventy or eighty thousand. She saved that money to send back home to my sisters and me.
Mother cooks at shrimp factory
At that time, my mother's workplace was nearly twenty kilometers away from my house. Compared to the convenient transportation conditions today, it sounds very close. But thirty years ago, the distance was far from home, the river ferry, the dusty dirt road, and for a child of five or six years old like me who had to be away from his mother, it was a very long distance.
At that time, every time I heard the sound of a ferry in the distance, I would run out to the road, waiting for the boat to dock, hoping that my mother would come upstairs. And even more hoping that every summer, my father would pack my clothes into a suitcase and take me to the factory to live with my mother until I started school.
Sometimes, my father and I took the ferry early in the morning to Lang Tron market, from Lang Tron market we took a rickshaw to Noc Nang to go to my mother's workplace. Sometimes, when it was sunny and the road was dry, my father borrowed my second uncle's bicycle and hobbled me along the winding dirt road out there. The hot sun and dusty wind were behind me, and in front of me was my father's sweaty back and the eagerness to see my mother again after so many days apart.
The days of my childhood when I missed my mother have always followed me, so when I see the ao dai, it seems to come back to life, filled with love and a tearful feeling.
Wearing mother's ao dai to go out in spring
I brought my mother’s ao dai with me to the province, wearing it to go to the spring market, through many streets and flower streets during this Tet holiday. Before, I was always self-conscious about my appearance, but this time was different. Among so many colorful ao dai, among many beautiful and graceful young women, for the first time I felt I was the most beautiful, and the most special.
Because I know, I am not wearing an ordinary old ao dai, but am being embraced by sacred memories, by memories of a difficult time with the immense love of my parents.
The contest "My Tet Moment" has ended the submission deadline.
Taking place from January 25 to February 24, the My Tet Moments contest is an opportunity for readers to introduce the most beautiful moments and unforgettable experiences during Tet with relatives and friends.
The Organizing Committee has received nearly 600 articles from readers in the past month. More than 50 articles have been selected and are being published on Tuoi Tre Online . We would like to thank readers for submitting their entries and following the contest taking place during the Tet Giap Thin this year.
Some articles will continue to be posted in the near future.
The award ceremony and summary are expected to take place in March 2024. The prize structure includes 1 first prize (15 million VND in cash and gifts), 2 second prizes (7 million VND and gifts), 3 third prizes (5 million VND and gifts).
The program is sponsored by HDBank.
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