Countryside alley

(Baonghean)-Vietnamese villages all have in common the many bamboo shade trees along the village roads and the image of the intimate village alleys and bamboo alleys. There is nothing strange about alleys, they are just boundaries to distinguish this house from that house; this wall from that wall. But each alley of each house has its own fate, its own appearance, its own personality.

Each countryside, each rural area, each rural lane is different. It seems that the house owner is like that, so is the house lane. The village lane, the house lane lets us know the past, the present and the near future. The village lane is like the cover of a life handbook, when opened we will encounter many nuances and colors of daily life, of family behavior, of house rules, and of people's character. There are deep and mysterious things with high walls and wide doors, there are things that are simple but never makeshift. Because there, through that door, a solid and measured position is formed.

I remember the country lane was sometimes just a curved arch of carefully trimmed trees. The path from the gate to the house was lined with hibiscus hedges with tangled vines. The leaves were lush green, the flowers were in full bloom, and the rows of tall areca trees were a standard of a noble and elegant life. From the lane to the yard was a world of so many trees, so many forms.

Bonsai trees have straight and soft shapes, some are noble and some are humble and hidden. Areca in front, banana in the back, and many country gardens grow grapefruit. Poet Xuan Dieu once wondered: "The grapefruit flowers are fragrant and the night is late". Only in the very late and quiet night can one recognize the grapefruit scent, the scent of the hair "The woman hides her hair in the night". The Tet fruit tray cannot lack grapefruit, the Mid-Autumn Festival tray has grapefruit - that moon fruit is the center to gather around persimmons, custard apples, guavas...

A corner of the countryside in Nghia Tien, Thai Hoa - Photo by Van Hai

It seems that in every person there are the deepest memories, especially when far away from home. The nostalgia for the countryside lane is both deep and bound, open and embracing, gently welcoming and gently closed. Remembering the countryside lane is remembering the thin figure of my mother, with her bent back, sweeping leaves. My mother swept the yard, the garden, and even the alley to make the village beautiful and the neighborhood clean.

The country lanes are connected to each other, with the call of invitations to drink green tea and eat the first hot sweet potato of the season. All the news, happy or sad, also starts from the country lanes, small lanes and spreads, overflowing with joy and sadness to the whole neighborhood, the whole village. Vietnamese people are like that: "Gourd, please love squash - Although different species, but on the same trellis". The trellis of gourd, squash, squash arms, gourd arms have supported each other to let the big fruit hang down, growing not only in shape but also in the heavy love, hoping to get closer to the hand of the picker because mother's back is getting more and more bent, the country lane is getting wider and the village road is getting farther and farther.

When I remember the country lane, I remember the summer days lying on a bamboo bed listening to the cicadas chirping and facing the summer wall. As people grow older, the country lane also wears away over the years. The creaking sound of the door sometimes makes me startled. Stepping through the country lane is entering a peaceful world filled with memories.

Touching the village lane is touching memories. Through many ups and downs, the village lane still exists, opening wide the village gate still exists. And there is still the village covenant - the covenant of human love, the covenant of family traditions: "Luckily there is still the village gate - Wherever I go, I still remember... Mom!".

Nguyen Ngoc Phu