It was early summer, but the sky seemed to be about to crack; cicadas chirped all day long, even when the city had sunk into the night. I looked at old photos, suddenly hearing the sound of falling royal poinciana flowers, and my heart was filled with so many emotions.
May brings with it the colors, scents, and sounds typical of scorching summer days. Photo: Internet.
It was early summer, but the sky seemed to be about to crack; cicadas chirped all day long, even when the city had sunk into the night. Taking advantage of a moment of free time, I opened the wooden drawer, rummaged through a pile of old books, and found the innocent white-shirt diary that was now old and stained with time. Turning each page gently, I looked at the old photos, suddenly hearing the sound of phoenix flowers falling, and my heart was filled with many emotions.
May has come, bringing with it the colors, scents, and sounds typical of the blazing summer days. Anyone, intentionally or unintentionally, can listen and feel those special things of May. But perhaps this is certain because not everyone can pay enough attention to hear, to hear the most quintessential sounds, the sounds that are difficult to perceive even for a moment, in the gentle breeze: the sound of falling phoenix flowers.
Royal poinciana blooms for May, it gives May its intense, passionate warmth. The sunshine of May is golden, the sky of May is blue and vast. May is singing passionate feelings. The red color of royal poinciana seems to join forces with the sun to burn the sky. That red color also kindles in someone feelings of love and longing, so that memories come back to life endlessly.
Royal poinciana dedicates to May its intense and passionate nature. Photo: Internet.
The sound of the phoenix flowers falling quietly mixed with the sound of cicadas... That sound has stirred up so many old things in me. How long has it been since I have been able to live so slowly, lingering like that to feel everything around me. In the sun that seems to burn everything, the phoenix flowers seem to be thinned. They fall very softly, like the chirping of birds, then lie withered in the yards or on the grass banks. Occasionally, when the wind blows or cars pass by, it creates swirls of wind that make the phoenix flowers flutter.
I remember that year's Royal Poinciana season, the last Royal Poinciana season of my student life. I remember a pristine May morning in a pure white student uniform, holding clusters of Royal Poinciana in my hand, eagerly taking the last yearbook photos with my teachers and friends. The moments of sobbing, of sadly saying goodbye, of making promises about tomorrow, and of meeting again. I also cannot forget that mischievous yet pure memory, during the 12th grade graduation ceremony, because I was picking some Royal Poinciana clusters to decorate the classroom, I climbed a tree, accidentally slipped and fell, luckily there was a grass carpet and only scratched my arms and legs. The memories of that year's exam season, the season of separation, come back vividly to me...
The sound of phoenix flowers falling, looking back at old days through old scrapbooks, I love summer even more. Illustration: Internet.
At that time, we promised each other many things, stood side by side every day to try to fulfill our dream of becoming students of the Faculty of Literature - Hanoi National University of Education. And then, life taught me that not all promises come true completely. In the early fall of that year, my friend and I lived together in complete joy when we both achieved our long-standing wishes. On the day of admission, the two country freshmen packed their bags and took the bus to Hanoi to "rent in the city" to start a new journey. But then, due to family troubles, despite his best efforts, he had to drop out of school and go to the South to support his family. As for me, I stayed in Hanoi, promising my friend that I would study hard to soon make our dream of becoming a Literature teacher come true. I graduated, and after graduating, I still stayed in Hanoi to work, and since then I have not had the chance to meet my friend.
The feelings and memories of the old summer kept coming back, rushing like a river in the flood season. The sound of a phoenix flower falling, looking back to the old days through old notebook pages, I love summer even more, love the student flowers even more, cherish and miss my friends in white shirts even more, cherish my unintentional but very special and delicate listening...
Tran Viet Hoang
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