Waiting and hoping

(Baonghean) - A year has passed. The thirty-first day of December, seemingly as simple and ordinary as any other number, yet when seen on the nearly empty calendar, it evokes a feeling of nostalgia, like a child counting wildflowers in the fields in the afternoon while waiting for mother to tie the last bundles of straw. The child waits, but leisurely enjoys the feeling of both wistful longing and delight as each petal falls into the small ditch.

A year, filled with fleeting joys and sorrows, tears and sweat, anticipation and hope, failures and successes... All of it settles in reminiscence, only to burst forth into a different, more vibrant melody in the dance of a new season, a new year. The number 31 is not a perfect circle; it leans backward as if trying to hold on, yet also seems more eager in its anticipation and yearning for new things. It was born to be a stepping stone, like a bridge connecting expectations...

Springtime charm. Photo: Trong Sach

Each year, we ask ourselves how we have lived through those 365 long, short days. More important than winning or losing, gaining or losing, is whether we have truly lived or merely experienced fleeting joys and sorrows like a passing breeze. Did we notice the morning dew glistening, absorbing the entire sky into itself? Did we notice the delicate fragrance of ripening rice in early autumn? Did we see the trees we pass daily suddenly burst with new green leaves? Did we feel our hearts tremble at the folk song sung by an artist from the depths of their aging chests? Did we feel the pain of separation, a separation that was joyful just yesterday? Did we gently sit beside our mother to comb her hair and pluck out the gray strands? Did we see the sadness that needs to subside and transform into strength? Did we see that everyone around us needs comfort and sharing? Or did we live without realizing that each day is a gift, an opportunity, coming and going, each minute and second unique, just like each person's own destiny?

In a single year, countless upheavals have occurred in our vast yet crowded world. Wars, political conflicts, shipwrecks, plane crashes, and epidemics—tragedies for which humanity has yet to find new names—have left many bewildered and fearful. Modern life is like a storm; it makes everything spin wildly in its rhythm, bringing with it countless uncertainties. We become powerful when we possess the wonders of modern inventions and technology, but we also become vulnerable to these very things, which can be turned into weapons against humanity by human hands. And climate change, natural disasters, and the unforeseen... all blend together in the whirlwind of modern life.

More than ever, hands need to hold hands and walk together to create a rhythm of love. We cannot live without relying on and sharing with each other. Just as in a barren desert, we need to create oases together. So that each year, the number 31 appearing on the nearly empty calendar remains a number of longing and anticipation. So that each of us can still be children, sitting and counting the falling petals until the twilight fades, yet knowing that tomorrow will be another bright day, warm new rays of sunshine dancing on our mother's sweat-drenched clothes, on the bountiful fields...

Nghe An Weekend