The golden sunlight was shining brightly everywhere, the wind gently rustled the leaves, making the air hot and stuffy. On a swaying afternoon in the city, I remembered the beloved summers that had passed…
Summers of childhood... ( Photo: Internet ).
Summer in us is the image of our homeland hidden with so much love. The season of hot winds chasing each other on the areca palms, on the dry tiled roofs and the white dusty road. Every summer, I diligently go with my grandmother to the garden to pick areca palm spathes to make fans. I remember the summer days when there were often power outages, and the weather was hot, so the palm-palm fan became an "inseparable item" for everyone. The summers of my childhood were so hot. The heat always reached 39-40oC. Sitting in the house, I could feel the heat, sweat pouring down, soaking my clothes. At noon, the children competed to go swimming in the river to cool down. In the evening, they waited at the village well to scoop up buckets of water to splash around. At that time, there were no pumps, nor was there tap water delivered to the house like now, everyone went to the village well to scoop up water to wash clothes and bathe. Wandering around, day after day passed, the harsh summer ended.
Childhood kite. (Photo: Internet).
I remember the summer of my childhood with the harvest season in the countryside. Right at the hottest time, the rice began to ripen. Farmers also watched the sun to harvest in time to dry the rice and straw for a good price. Harvesting in the summer, I saw how hard the farmers worked. The sun beat right into their faces, making everyone's face dark, the hardship was even more evident. As a child, I followed my parents, bringing a kettle of water for the adults to take a break in the middle of the day. The harvest season brought back memories of the jumping moths in the plastic bags I held beside me. Although the sun was scorching hot, my mind always thought of the "party" of fragrant, fatty moths, so I had more motivation to go back and forth in the fields.
Summer in my life is the bright moonlit nights when the whole family gathers around an old mat, my mother prepares a pot of soft boiled sweet potatoes, and my father prepares a pot of strong green tea mixed with a sweet and sour taste. The whole family eats sweet potatoes, watches the moon until late at night, then goes inside to sleep. I lie on my father's lap, face up, looking at the sparkling constellations, innocently asking how far the way to the sky is, will I ever touch the tiny stars up there? My father patiently shows me where the constellation of Scorpio is, the Big Dipper, the Milky Way, and then the flocks of ducks and swans... frolicking in the sky. Outside the square yard, the night is quiet, frogs croak everywhere, insects chirp. Such evenings are always so peaceful to me!
Simple yet cozy home-cooked meals. ( Photo: Internet ).
Summer days, I miss the simple but cozy home-cooked meals. Summer is dry and the trees cannot grow. There are days when the whole family has to eat old wild vegetables or a meal of tomato soup cooked thinly with cold water. Some meals are better when my father comes back from the field and catches a handful of skinny crabs. He grinds the crabs until smooth, filters the water, boils it, and then adds a handful of wild vegetables to make a pot of sweet soup. Meals like that can easily “burn the pot” (as my mother jokingly says) when she sees her children eating so eagerly. When I grow up and go far away, I have the opportunity to enjoy many delicious and strange foods, but I can never forget that simple summer home-cooked meal. It is not just a regular meal but also a sacred and happy family affection.
The summer of love just passed by. Leaving the village for the city, my heart always ached with the desire to return to my hometown. There, a part of my soul was anchored, there were memories that became eternal, a solid foundation for me to confidently step into life...
Tang Hoang Phi
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