Country garden

(Baonghean) - The home garden is rich in trees, flowers and grass. Each tree planted in the garden contains the boundless love that our parents have for us. Over the years, many types of flowers have disappeared, some delicious guava varieties have disappeared, the plum bushes that our father got seeds from Lao Cai were destroyed by pests and diseases. However, our parents have never personally cut down a tree, because each leaf and each branch contains dear memories. And in her stories, our mother often begins with the sentence: "That tree is probably as old as you all are...".

The guava tree was the same age as the youngest son. Mother was sure of this because that August afternoon, when she went to work in the fields, she saw a young guava tree growing on the roadside, so she dug it up and planted it. While digging the hole, Mother whispered to each other: “I planted it so that you can climb the tree to pick the fruit later.” That very night, Mother went into labor, Father ran to call the village midwife, and the youngest son was born, crying loudly throughout the poor neighborhood. The two star fruit trees were the same age as me, Father planted them so that his beloved daughter could sit in a hammock and comb her hair. The milk fruit tree was a year older than my brother, its flowers were getting sparser and sparser, its canopy covered Mother’s rice drying yard, but no one thought of cutting it down. The old jackfruit tree was filled with memories of the day Mother became a daughter-in-law, and at night, missing home, she hid under the tree and sobbed. It was still the same jackfruit tree that the day I got married, Mother also secretly ran out to wipe her tears…

Photo: Internet

Now, in my parents' garden, although it is cramped, they still plant a few more trees for the grandchildren. Little Ti likes custard apple the most, so his grandmother went to the market to buy some young custard apple trees. Little Bong likes sapodilla, so in the corner of the garden, a few new trees appeared. That was where my grandfather used to plant chili peppers to pickle bamboo shoots. Now the chili peppers have withered, and he also said that he is old and can't eat spicy food anymore. I got married far away, but my mother still takes care of watering the basil bushes in the garden. Although my hair is now curly and cut short, every soapberry season my mother picks and dries them in the sun to save. When the youngest son goes out, he comes home and runs out to the garden, sometimes he is busy in the jujube bushes, sometimes he is hanging on the guava tree, sometimes he is tired of holding a pole to poke grapefruit. My father still smiles and says: "This son is the one who loves snacks the most in the family." But thanks to the youngest son who comes back often, the fruit trees in the garden are less likely to fall and rot. Mom never sold them like other families because she always thought that her children would come back, and if they sold them, they would have nothing to eat. Although in reality, we only had time to visit a few times a year. At that time, the fruit might still be green, and sometimes when we got home, the last fruit had fallen to the ground, the season had ended from the night dew, the morning sun…

The nostalgia for one’s homeland is different for each person. It could be the image of a banyan tree, a ferry, a communal house yard, or a poetic river, or it could be the train station where the train stops several times a day. But for me, all those memories are concentrated in my home garden. At every family reunion meal, my father tells me to go out and pick some lemon leaves to sprinkle on chicken meat for fragrance, or some perilla leaves to make a pot of frog stew with banana for the right taste. Or when my grandchildren are in pain, my mother will always find some folk medicine in the home garden that is both healing and quick to heal. Both rows of fragrant daffodils have been waiting for us to return for so many years. That alone is enough to make my nostalgia sometimes burst into tears…

Vu Thi Huyen Trang