Childhood sky…
(Baonghean) - My friend studied photography, after graduating, in order to earn a living, he took on all kinds of jobs from taking photos for magazines to taking photos of weddings and funerals. After not seeing each other for several years, one day I received an invitation to see his art exhibition, which surprised me. Entering the gallery, I felt like I was immersed in the space of the countryside sparkling with the colors of childhood. I saw again the innocent eyes of children, the calf crying on jackfruit leaves, each kite fluttering in the summer sky, the scene of catching perch after the rain... He smiled happily, saying this was the gift he wanted to give me, to give to the beautiful, naive years. Only then did I know that I was not the only one who kept a corner of my childhood hidden in me, where we used to lie down on the grass by the roadside, giggling and talking about the tiny girlfriend with curly blond hair who often cried next door...
Sometimes we returned to the village, wearing shorts, shirtless, carrying guns to the cajuput forest to shoot, and carrying hoes. One day we invited each other to go snail catching, and when it rained at midnight, we called each other to go frog hunting. It seemed that we never returned home without having fun, the smell of muddy soil still lingered in us. When we went to a friend's house during custard apple season, we would poke our hands into the straw pile outside the gate and we would definitely find a few ripe fruits. When we saw a pile of fragrant smoke in the garden, we were sure we would get to enjoy roasted cassava or grilled corn and sweet potatoes. Our friends said that these were hometown specialties, there was nothing in the world as nostalgic as the taste of the time when our eyes were blue. We were still no different from ten-year-old children, no matter how far and wide we went, we still found joy in the fields and stubble.
Nowadays, the countryside has changed a lot. The forest where we used to sneak around to find chestnuts and pick blackberries has now turned into a tea processing factory. The fields in front of our house now have a cement factory, tall chimneys, and occasionally the rumbling sound of quarrying on the high mountains... When you come back to your hometown, you see the children buried in internet cafes playing video games and shake your head sadly. Where are the "que moi que mai", "nu na nu nong", "blind man's bluff"... I see you startled and sad and I can't help but feel sorry. A corner of our childhood only exists in memory...
Then you returned to your hometown less often, so we rarely had the chance to sit together to chat and reminisce. You were busy wandering around looking for beautiful moments in a certain countryside. I also hope you will find a peaceful place to rely on, to anchor your soul when you are tired. As for me, every time I see children without a place to play, I feel sorry for the nursery rhyme breaking out in the sound of machinery and vehicles rumbling day and night. Children now lack green grass to lie on their backs and whisper about their distant dreams. The lullaby also collides with the houses and shops close together and breaks into pieces. Yes, even the lullaby is not long enough, I feel sorry for the stork in the folk song that stopped singing halfway... But strangely, children gradually get used to the life of industrialization so they no longer feel deprived, so why do I always worry about their lack and then feel sorry for them...
Vu Thi Huyen Trang
