The last afternoons of the year

After more than 30 years of living away from home; facing the changes of the country, the impermanence, the love, letting go, coping... sometimes I really feel that life is extremely complicated and difficult.

But in return, I find that I still have enough vitality to devote to work, to struggle with life. And the image of my father in the hardship of a time of poverty and subsidy always tried to work day and night and always encouraged his children to study hard to reduce their suffering in the future. That image, those words of my father have been the source of motivation for me to overcome, I always try to be worthy of being the eldest child in the family where my father entrusted so much hope for his younger siblings to follow. I live far from my hometown, currently working for a state salary; the late afternoons of December are also the old year about to pass with so many joys and sorrows, gains and losses. Now the things of the old year have almost ended, instead many new things will begin. I walked out of the year-end review, evaluation, and classification meeting room for groups and individuals, not knowing whether to be happy or worried, happy or sad when all the regulations on evaluating and classifying people have a certain percentage, and are not evaluated according to the capacity and dedication of the individual. Some civil servants and public employees work with all their heart, effectively applying the knowledge they have learned at school to their professional work; helping to significantly reduce the time it takes for a group to complete work, helping colleagues trust and rely on each other to progress together, helping leaders implement initiatives that can be applied usefully to the reality of the unit... but because of the percentage, they are not evaluated as having completed their tasks at an excellent level. Then, I quickly forgot all the regulations that keep changing over time. When the night falls, all the worries of daily life gradually disappear; occupying my soul at this time are sad, deep, and vague musical notes. Perhaps it is the vagueness of someone who misses his homeland. The last afternoons of the year always make my soul linger with many colorful sounds. Many times I always wish that the last afternoons of the year do not come or come slowly, just because the work is not finished or so that I have time to prepare some necessary things before welcoming the new year. But many times I wish it comes quickly and lingers for a long time so that I can recall a journey of the years living far away from home, although not very long, but enough to see what is favorable and what is difficult.

Dalat in the late afternoon of the year. Photo: Internet

Not only me, but also those who live far from home often miss their hometown at the end of the year. The desire to return home quickly to see their relatives after a long time of absence. Many people want to embrace all the familiar scenes of their childhood such as the fields, mounds, alluvial plains or the bamboo hedges winding around the small river. They miss their parents who worked hard all their lives, their hands and feet were calloused, saving every penny to raise their children to adulthood, hoping that they would reach a bright future; escape the life of farmers who work hard to earn their living. Remembering the scene of my siblings gathering around the dinner table when I visited my hometown at the end of last year, I felt so excited. Even though the dinner was simple, the time together was not much; because everyone was busy and rushed with their own work in the small family. Those are the marks of love that are so hard to fade, nothing can compensate. Sitting alone in my second hometown that I have chosen, the city of Da Lat, thousands of flowers, dreamy in the late winter afternoons; each gentle breeze blowing, the cool climate further enhances the strange, simple memories of my hometown, a poor rural area. My soul has taken refuge somewhere, sometimes on the bank of the fish pond, sometimes around the banana bushes behind the summer, sometimes swinging in the orchard... sometimes following the riverbank to pick wild apples, then choosing a place with a cool, clear stream, gently flowing to soak in to my heart's content... Remembering those moments, I suddenly feel a strange sense of peace and serenity. The solar year is almost over, and Tet is not far away. I have imagined a countryside that is not bustling and crowded, a simple place, a rural area where life is difficult but everything is very peaceful and gentle. That place has simple houses where few people pass by, it is the place where I was born and raised, leaving deep memories of my childhood, deep impressions of my grandparents, parents, and loved ones that I always long to return to.

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