Kite seasons in memory

Illustration

I wandered along the dike in the windy afternoon . The remaining rays of sunlight seemed to float on the smoky water, a few dragonflies absentmindedly looked at their reflections in the water, a buffalo lay peacefully in the shade listening to the rustling wind blowing through the fields. The afternoon in the countryside was as peaceful as a lake without ripples. The smoke from burning copper coins drifted up into the sky in clumps. I watched the thin smoke gradually dissipate in the flickering afternoon sunlight.

The cracked fields bear the footprints of country children amid the cheerful laughter. I often followed my friends running and jumping in the fields, releasing paper kites against the blue sky. To make the paper kites fly high in the wind, we often skipped sleep, gathered to cut bamboo, and tear paper to make kites. I was a clumsy child, but I always wanted my kite to be the biggest and fly the highest. So I often tried my best to shave the bamboo as long as possible and make the frame as wide as possible. Only when the paper pasted on it did not fit, would I take it apart and start again. But no matter what, my kite had to be bigger than my friends'.

We often draw our favorite images on the kite, such as majestic mountains, trees, flowers, and cartoon characters. But I like to write my dreams on it. I often look at the kite flying, imagining that one day, my dream will fly high and far like that kite in my hometown.

As I grew up over the years, kite seasons passed by endlessly in my life. I no longer fought to have my kite fly the highest, nor foolishly sat there crying like rain when the kite broke its string and flew away. Back then, every time kite season came, we often returned home late at night, no longer able to see people's faces clearly. Sometimes, because we were so engrossed in playing, the adults in the house had to go looking for us. But we were never scolded. Because everyone's childhood had kite seasons filled with laughter. Each kite season that passed brought with it the clear memories of my childhood, as if the kites would still follow me throughout my life.

The afternoons in the countryside passed quietly, I stood on the dike and watched the children of the countryside chattering and running in the fields. The straw seemed to wrap tightly around people's feet, whispering about the past harvests. The children of the countryside were excitedly holding the string in their hands, waiting for the kite to be filled with wind. The paper kites of the past have now been replaced by all kinds of shapes and colors. But why do I miss the simple paper kites of the past so much? And the only thing that never changes is the clear smile and the sparkling eyes when looking up to the sky.

Memories flooded back like a white river in me. The laughter of the past still lingered somewhere. Somewhere, in the faint flicker of kites, I wonder if the children of the past are nostalgically remembering the countryside with its flickering smoke. Where there were childhood kites, the sky is filled with memories./.

Huynh Thi Kim Cuong

Source: https://baolongan.vn/nhung-mua-dieu-trong-ky-uc-a192505.html