When I was little, on hot summer days when my parents were working in the fields, I was home alone and didn't know what to do, so I often ran over to my grandparents' house to play by the hibiscus hedge.
Illustration: DANG HONG QUAN
My grandparents' house is right next to mine, separated by a large garden, divided in half by a hedge of hibiscus flowers with red flowers like lanterns all year round.
Grandpa passed away a long time ago, at that time grandma was very young, just over thirty. She never remarried, stayed single and worked to raise her father and youngest aunt.
Aunt Ut got married, leaving her alone in the empty house. Many times, Dad asked her to come live with him, but she refused. She said that she was not blind or hard of hearing, so she could take care of herself.
My father knew that she liked to live alone and was afraid that living with her in-laws would cause trouble, so he had to give up.
She loved me so much, when we went to the memorial service, she took a banh it and put it in her pocket. When we reached the gate, she called me out, smiled and put the dark leaf package in my hand. I shouted happily, peeled it and ate it deliciously, after eating, wiped my mouth and asked her why she brought back so little. She pressed her hand to my forehead and scolded me a few times.
In the middle of my grandparents' house there was a shiny black ironwood bed. My grandmother often lay there chewing betel, fanning herself with a palm leaf fan, humming folk songs. On hot afternoons, I would run around outside in the sun, sweating profusely. I loved to run into my grandparents' house to drink a cup of cool water, then climb up onto the bed and lie down with my grandmother.
She fanned me, scratched my back, sang lullabies and told me stories. After lying down for a while, I felt sleepy, closed my eyes and slept until afternoon. When I woke up and didn't see her, I ran to look for her and found her busy outside the fence picking some leaves to cook sour soup for dinner.
On moonlit nights, her house was like a paradise. The magical moonlight flowed across the square yard, flowing into the house, illuminating a corner of the wooden bed. She lay there chewing betel, I sat beside her, leaning my head out the window to watch the full moon.
The fairy tales she told on moonlit nights were so vivid and captivating. I lay listening, engrossed, the magical moonlight and her murmuring voice weaving shimmering golden dreams.
When the moon rose high, the ground was covered with cold dew, and I heard footsteps rustling in front of the gate. I looked up and heard my father calling me. Filled with regret, I climbed down from the bed, fumbled for my slippers, and followed my father home. Sometimes I lay there, screaming and refusing to get up. My father had to comfort me by carrying me or carrying me on his shoulders.
Those beautiful days are long gone, twenty years have passed, my grandmother is now old, my father took her to live with him so that he can take care of her. I work in the city, every time I come home to visit, I still see her sitting on the rattan chair on the porch. I walk over and hug her, asking if she is okay. It takes her a while to recognize me, her cloudy eyes are filled with tears.
Having gone through many ups and downs in life, my childhood memories have probably faded somewhat, but the stories my grandmother told me on moonlit nights are still clear.
Having my grandmother in my childhood was a blessing for me. My dreams as a child, thanks to her and her lullabies, were always filled with love and peaceful happiness.
Source: https://tuoitre.vn/nhung-dem-trang-va-noi-20250209110756205.htm
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