C6, my Quang Trung...

(Baonghean.vn) - I used to wish to return to my hometown, to live, to work, but fate kept pushing me away from those wishes. And now, with each passing day, the desire to return - to that old, gray-brown apartment complex - grows stronger. Because there, is my family, my friends, my childhood, the innocent days, the pure, foolish first love, the "stories I never get tired of telling" to my children, the nostalgia that flares up violently every afternoon I wander around Hanoi...

I have been attached to the C6 building, Quang Trung since I was a little kid. In our childish eyes at that time, it was a life-changing experience. It was strange from the long staircase, strange from the apartments next to each other. Standing from the 4th floor looking down, the front was immense, behind you could wave your hands, call each other from this house to the apartment complex on the other side. Every side was full of wind and sunshine. Down there, there was a large lawn where children made a soccer field, there were vegetable gardens with all kinds of green vegetables, occasionally dotted with a few yellow mustard flowers. I have made many more friends since moving here. We grew up together, stuck together throughout our childhood, and until now.

"With each passing day, the desire to return to that old, gray-brown apartment building grows stronger..." Photo: Thanh Cuong.

Dozens of apartments occupy five floors with all kinds of sad and happy stories, happy and miserable lives, most of them equally poor. Teachers or traders, civil servants or freelance workers all beat peanuts until their ten fingertips hurt, dust flies everywhere; all save each bucket of water, carrying it from the Diec Pagoda until their shoulders are numb; all pile rice husks under the stove to cook rice; all set aside a corner of the bathroom for the pigs that squeal all day long; all have days of hunger, days of fullness; all have to endure hot summers and also days of storms and floods.

We children grew up like that, through the difficult days with our innocent games. The lawn in front of our house was a memory of grasshoppers and locusts. Quang Trung Street became a place for wandering around catching fish and orange wings. That little orange wing seemed to have become our obsession when witnessing the pain of a family. Memories were the first time we went to Mid-Autumn Festival and didn’t get any gifts, or the time we got burned at Tu Anh’s house, or the afternoons after school when our mother brought us ice cream sticks full of ice and sugar…

The little 'pink lady' in the Quang Trung apartment complex. Photo: Thanh Cuong.

At that time, the best thing was when the Saigon traveling circus came back to the countryside. The children had the opportunity to sell boiled peanuts, cigarettes, and watch flying motorbikes. People kept playing the song: "A quiet, bustling alley, located in the heart of the big city. A loving voice, makes my heart more attached...", listening to it until I knew it by heart. Later, when I grew up, I traveled a lot, and listened to the song "Quiet, deserted alley" many times, but every time I cried.

I remember vividly the stormy seasons, the whole house shook, it seemed like it would collapse in a moment. I remember the sound of firecrackers on New Year's Eve, the next morning was filled with red firecrackers. I still joke with Ky: when we grow up, if we get married, we will explode a firecracker between our two houses, right Ky? I remember the nights we gathered at Aunt Vinh Giap's house to watch "The Rich Also Cry" or "Izaura the Slave". On the entire 4th floor, only Aunt Vinh's house had a color TV.

I long to wander with my friends on clear, breezy moonlit nights, then lie down on Quang Trung Street, long to pick up grapefruit seeds to string into strings to light up on the Mid-Autumn Festival night; long to make Mid-Autumn Festival lanterns for the children like my father did in the past; long to steal mixed vegetables to sell at the market; long to hear the wind blowing through the 4th floor door on winter days; long to eat a bowl of salted eggplant stir-fried with lard with hot rice.

"It was all like a film reel with happy and sad memories of a difficult time, but pure and full of love" ...Photo: Thanh Cuong

I miss Ky, Van, Nga, Hien, Lan, Hong Phu, Hung Nam, Anh Khue, Dung, Huy Tue, Vinh Dao, Thuy Gia, Duong..., I miss the evenings studying for university entrance exams, eating bread, just thinking about it makes me feel nauseous. I miss Phuc Dieu too, the crybaby. I miss Quang Trung's friends who used to gather at the C6 staircase. Everything is like a film reel with happy and sad memories of a difficult time, but pure and full of love. I miss Thuy, my best friend, through all the anger and resentment, we still miss each other a lot. I miss her so much that when I went to university, I took my first photo away from home to save for Thuy.

I can write poetry, have a lot of love for everyone, be tolerant of life and accept difficulties, perhaps also from this place, from the place where people bond and share with each other. I suddenly put my hand to my ear, as if I could still clearly feel the sharp pain of grapefruit thorns, with salt, of the time of beautifying with manual technology. Yet I still remember, still hold on to it until now. Oh C6, my Quang Trung!

Truong Thi My Nhan