Rubbing my hands together, I was surprised by the cold air from the rain that had just filled the streets. Suddenly, I got lost in a quiet garden cafe, as if this place was not in the middle of the street, as if the bustling sounds outside could not penetrate the bamboo fence outside the shop door. Curiously, I stepped in to explore this strange space. The interior was simply arranged. Bamboo chairs. Bamboo tables. Small bamboo bushes planted in the yard of the shop. It looked small and cute, close, as if I was lost in a small village in the past...
The owner must be a gentle and elegant person to have decorated the shop like this. The scent of natural essential oils is faint and pleasant. The music is soft and just loud enough to listen to. Let yourself go in the cool space, drifting in the memories of childhood, the afternoons when we skipped naps and invited each other to cut bamboo to make syringes. The "bullets" are old jute fruits, stuffed inside the bamboo tubes and then pushed out by a round bamboo stick. The "bullets" are compressed through a long tube so when they explode, there is a pleasant "pop".
In early autumn, we always went hunting for ripe guavas to eat. There was nothing more fun than sitting on the fork of a guava tree, eating and throwing the ends of the guavas into the pond, "chum, chum". Our laughter echoed throughout the neighborhood. The mothers immediately took out their whips and chased their children home. Once, worried that my mother would catch me and beat me, I slipped down, causing a dry branch to scratch my calf. My mother washed me with salt water and forced me to lie face down and beat me. I cried and blamed my mother for not loving me and always scolding me. When I reached puberty, I distanced myself from my mother even more because I thought she only knew how to impose her will on her children. I always argued with her. Always defended my ego. My mother only knew how to cry helplessly. Seeing my mother cry, I not only did not love her but also became angrier because I thought she used her tears to force me to obey. Just like that, I gradually moved away from my mother's arms.
Alas, the little bird was only excited about the vast sky, not knowing the many difficulties that awaited him ahead.
Being stubborn, I gritted my teeth and endured the failure, gritting my teeth and struggling to get up on my feet. I was afraid that if I spoke out, I would have to hear my mother scolding me, afraid of seeing her disappointed eyes. I longed to assert myself. And so the time I came home gradually became less and less...
I didn't know my mother was aging so quickly.
I did not know that my mother's time was gradually shortening.
I do not hear my mother's sighs in the night.
I didn't know that every night my mother still watches the phone waiting for a call from me.
* * *
Time does not wait for anyone. When I realized my mother's love for me, the candle of her life was about to burn out. When I knew how to buy delicious food to bring home, knew how to buy nice clothes for my mother, she could not eat because she had to diet to reduce blood sugar and blood fat. Looking at my mother's simple vegetarian meal, my eyes were stinging. It turned out that I was the biggest failure in this life because I could not repay my parents.
Mom passed away on an early autumn day, just one day before Vu Lan festival. People say that those who pass away on this special occasion must have practiced very hard and done many good deeds. I don't know if that's true or not, but when she passed away, her face was very peaceful, with a smile on her lips, not writhing in pain from illness like the previous days.
Vu Lan season has come again. The streets are cold again. My heart is filled with the regret of a child who has not fulfilled his filial duties. Suddenly the shop plays a sad song, so sad, so heart-wrenching: "A rose for you, a rose for me, a rose for those, for those who still have their mothers, still have their mothers to be happier...".
Vu Lan comes every year, but you are no longer here for me to show my gratitude, Mom!
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