The exterior of the building reflected the image of the blue sky and white clouds, making it even more impressive. But my eyes couldn't help but look down at the river in front of me, which was emitting a strong, characteristic smell of the river region. Then, in my eyes, moving green dots appeared, drifting closer and closer. It turned out that they were clumps of water hyacinth, swaying with each wave. They followed the water, never stopping for a moment. A very clear contrast in the most vibrant city in the country.
Water hyacinth not only reminds me of the past but also makes me think of the people living in this city: quiet, struggling to make a living but never giving up.
The river surface often rolls up in waves because of the constant passing of boats and ships, and occasionally a barge passes by. Water hyacinths seem unaffected by these things, still calmly flowing to their own rhythm: gentle, silent, slow. I am no stranger to this plant. When I was little, every time water hyacinths bloomed purple flowers covering the pond bank, I often waded down to pick them to play with. Water hyacinths are beautiful but easily crushed, quickly fading, requiring one to be very careful with their hands. When I was a little older, I used to sit absent-mindedly for hours just to watch the flowers under the crimson sunset. Those dreamy afternoons in my teenage years sometimes make me silent for a long time when I remember them.
Now, I am surprised to see water hyacinth again in the heart of the city. Because I thought that the city only had crowded streets, skyscrapers, luxurious and expensive shops. Who would have thought that there was also the shadow of my hometown. It seems that the trees here live a very different life, completely separate from the splendor and sparkle that we can see anywhere in this place. Watching the water hyacinth drift, I forget all the noise, the crowd, no longer remember the sound of car horns, the pungent smell of engines, gasoline, dust under the scorching sun that seems to want to burn people's shoulders, only a peaceful and quiet heart remains. It turns out that the city has such a peaceful place, making me stand by the riverbank forever, letting the wind blow my hair, reluctant to leave.
On the other side of the river, tall buildings still try to reach the sky, people are rushing in a fast pace of life. On this side of the river, people sit next to each other leisurely, quietly with the drinks they ordered, telling endless stories of life and watching the river flow. Under the trees, I saw an old man sleeping on a folding chair next to an old bicycle. His face had no trace of worry. Water hyacinths drifting between the two worlds created a strange harmony. The boundary created by the river thanks to water hyacinths had more green and purple areas. Suddenly I felt homesick, nostalgic for the past.
- Where do water hyacinths come from? Where do they go? – I asked my friend absentmindedly.
- Who knows. But what does it matter, right? – Your voice drifted on the wind, fading over the river.
I suddenly realized, you are also absent-minded like me.
Well, it doesn’t matter. Being a water hyacinth, one will always live a life drifting on the river like that. It was like that in the past, now and in the future, it will not change for anyone or anything. And am I not also drifting along the deep stream of life? If so, I am also a water hyacinth with a human form. Who knows where I will leave my footprints tomorrow. That morning, a strange city suddenly became familiar to me thanks to the wild plant. The lonely journey had an interesting stopover that helped my heart feel less confused and lonely.
The water hyacinth drifts endlessly, never stopping, never disappearing, silently holding onto what is old and familiar. The water hyacinth not only reminds me of the past but also makes me think of the people living in this city: quietly, struggling to make a living but never giving up. They still steadfastly cling to the river of life even though sometimes they are battered and battered by the waves. Human life may be small but vitality is never drained; on the contrary, adversity makes that vitality accumulate and become stronger over time.
The Saigon River quietly meanders around the city. The river carries in its heart memories of a bygone era. The continuity between the past and the present, between the countryside and the city, between the rustic and the luxurious in this life is often not expressed by clear achievements but only by the shape of a river flowing through the heart of the city carrying clumps of water hyacinth quietly drifting. To see that, we need to stop, calm our hearts, and gaze into a vast space. Each of us needs so many quiet moments like that in our lives.
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