Fairy gardens

(Baonghean) - Today, I took my niece to buy Mid-Autumn Festival toys. We browsed through several stalls with all kinds of lanterns and masks in various colors, but still couldn't find anything we liked. Suddenly, she pointed to a bicycle parked next to a brightly colored toy stall, with neatly hung plastic bags filled with water. They were selling goldfish!

Both of them were as delighted as children, gazing intently at the cheerful fish gracefully swimming back and forth in the transparent, glass-like plastic bags. Their initial plan was to buy lanterns for the Mid-Autumn Festival, but it ended up being goldfish instead. But what did it matter! Watching the little girl excitedly cradle the bag containing the two long-tailed fish, he felt a surge of childlike joy. He suddenly remembered his childhood, walking past the city's "aquariums" on his way to school, often lingering at the stalls selling ornamental fish. Lost in the shimmering water of the colorful fish, he'd sometimes been searched for by his parents before they finally found him squatting beside an aquarium in the Cửa Nam flower garden. That day, he'd received a memorable beating, leaving him wriggling around like a goldfish for days!

The Cua Nam flower garden is where children play every afternoon.

In my memory, the Cua Nam flower garden is associated with those aquariums. I often secretly called it "my little garden," because it not only had stalls selling ornamental fish but also plants, birds, rabbits, white mice, and more. Occasionally, there were even some animals rarely seen in the city, like monkeys, squirrels, and pythons. To me, the Cua Nam flower garden was like a miniature botanical garden, and what's more, there was no entrance fee! Once, a classmate's parents bought her a rabbit from the Cua Nam flower garden for her birthday. So the whole class "escorted" her to choose the rabbit, causing the shop owners to be startled when they saw a group of children rushing into the store like cute little rabbits. I didn't say it out loud, but I was extremely envious of my classmate. Actually, I've long wished to have a pet in my room, especially a fish, but my parents disagreed, saying I'm too playful and wouldn't be able to take good care of a small animal. Because of this, I spend my days just wandering around and admiring them to ease my longing.

But then, during the Mid-Autumn Festival of my eighth grade year, my long-held wish finally came true. My mother took me to the Cua Nam flower garden, where she chose and bought a pair of beautiful goldfish and a round fish tank. Sitting behind her on the motorbike, clutching the fish tank like a treasure, I happily watched the two little fish swim back and forth, occasionally surfacing to look at me as if recognizing their owner. With the two goldfish, I no longer sneaked out to play in the midday sun with the neighborhood kids, but diligently cleaned the tank and collected algae to feed the fish. Looking at the two fish's full bellies, I smiled broadly. On Mid-Autumn night, instead of playing with water guns and teasing the girls, I invited my friends from the neighborhood to my house to watch the lion dance and eat the Mid-Autumn feast. The mooncakes my mother bought were also shaped like fish, perfectly matching my goldfish tank, so all my friends were amazed, making me incredibly proud.

Small business owners conduct their operations on the sidewalk of Cua Nam flower garden.

While I was reminiscing about old times, my niece tugged at my sleeve and softly asked, "Uncle, can Bim borrow your fish tank to keep in your room? That round tank hasn't been used for a long time; it would look beautiful with Bim's two fish in it, wouldn't it?" I nodded and smiled at her. Later, when I went to study far from home, my mother carelessly forgot to close the window, and the next morning, the two little friends were gone. My mother called me, sadly suggesting, "Maybe it was the neighbor's cat!" I was heartbroken for several days. After returning from school, I put the fish tank away in the corner of the cupboard and didn't bother keeping any more fish. Actually, when you step out of childhood, there are always sad memories that you want to wrap up and store away in a cupboard, not having the courage to carry them with you forever.

The two of us walked past the Cua Nam flower garden again. Gone were the shops selling ornamental plants and aquarium fish like in my childhood. Now it's a small public park with trees and a fountain, where people stroll and relax in the afternoons. Gone was the scene of people standing and sitting around the goldfish tanks, intently watching the fish swim around before choosing their favorites. Gone were the fighting fish kept in separate tanks; the more colorful and longer the tails, the more beautiful they were considered "young," while those with torn tails had already been through "battles." The Cua Nam flower garden now resembles a true flower garden more, quieter, but it still evokes a fleeting feeling of nostalgia and regret.

While the North Gate flower garden, also known as the "Triangle" garden, is centrally located with three sides facing some of the city's busiest streets, bustling with people day and night, the South Gate flower garden is nestled in the heart of the neighborhood, witnessing the most ordinary aspects of daily life. It was once a hub for clothing markets, fruit markets, ornamental plant gardens, and pet shops. Although the buying and selling activities have somewhat subsided, glimpses of the once vibrant and bustling commercial streets still linger. This is an unmistakable characteristic that has not faded despite the changes in space and time. The South Gate area of ​​Vinh ancient citadel remains a concentration of diverse and lively shops and businesses, especially in food and fashion.

This is also an inevitable but rather rapid change in the city, making one realize, upon reflection, that they have traveled a vast distance, that yesterday and today are separated by miles of memories filled with longing and nostalgia. Just yesterday, I was an innocent child, finding joy in my childhood with my goldfish tank; now I've suddenly grown into an adult, burdened with worries. I gaze at the radiant smile on my niece's face, reliving the feeling of astonishment, admiration, and envy I felt for my classmate years ago. Perhaps I've secretly packed away that simple, pure joy into the old fish tank, closing the door and locking away my heart without even realizing it…

Everyone has to grow up eventually, and sometimes saying goodbye to childhood means saying goodbye to pure joys. This city is the same; it can't stay young forever. How can the old landscapes retain their freshness and purity when the people living in the city change? Only intangible spiritual values ​​remain, like this Mid-Autumn Festival. Even if the food and games have changed somewhat, the meaning of bringing joy to children remains intact. The joy I felt when my parents took me to buy goldfish during the Mid-Autumn Festival of the past and the joy my beloved niece feels this Mid-Autumn Festival—are they really that different?

Now my beloved granddaughter is looking at me with her eyes wide and thoughtful:

- What do you think I should name these two goldfish? Did your fish get names when you were little?

Yes, you named them Door and South!

Sometimes, the way people preserve and relive old joys is as simple as that!

Text and photos:Hai Trieu