Old Tet...

(Baonghean) - When the swallows fluttered, carrying the new sunshine, rhyming on the familiar doorstep, signaling the arrival of a new spring, my memory again recalled the loving image of my grandmother...

Photo: internet

Remembering the gentle, warm days of early spring, my grandmother often took the opportunity to take my sisters and I’s old clothes out to sit on the porch, diligently sewing. Her skinny hands slowly threaded each needle and thread onto each worn-out piece of fabric so that my sisters and I could wear more intact clothes to celebrate Tet. Seeing my friends wearing flower-patterned clothes to show off around the neighborhood, she sewed and sadly said: “Tet is coming, Spring is coming, seeing other people’s children and grandchildren have new clothes, I love you so much. But…” She hesitated to say that, then the corners of her eyes suddenly filled with tears. The sunlight clearly reflected each small teardrop, sparkling with sadness.

People often say that Spring is the season of reunion, family happiness. Yet for my grandmother and I, Spring is the season of waiting. Because of debt, my parents had to leave their hometown and go all the way to Saigon to work for money to pay off their debt, leaving behind two young children for her to raise and care for. Every time Spring comes, my grandmother still stands in front of the gate, looking back at the distant road, unable to hide the silent sadness imprinted on her old, haggard face. Another Tet, my parents cannot come back...

To cover the living expenses during Tet, my grandmother had to save, take care of, and cherish each vegetable and fruit in her garden so that she could sell them at the market. Feeling sorry for her, who was old and had to stay up late and wake up early, my sisters and I could only try to help her with the light housework. The burden of making a living weighed heavily on her thin shoulders…

My grandmother and I had a very simple and modest Tet. On New Year’s Eve, in the small, cramped kitchen, my grandmother sat hunched over, wrapping green Chung cakes, while my sisters and I were busy sweeping the house and washing the dishes. The smoke from the kitchen drifted up, blending with the gentle afternoon sunlight, creating a backdrop that highlighted the peach blossoms that were shyly blooming pink. And with each gentle breeze, the scent of incense, the scent of fish braised with turmeric, the scent of braised pork belly… wafted out everywhere, sweet and passionate. Surely at this time, far away, my parents were missing their homeland terribly?

Each Tet like that was another time my sisters and I grew up and another time my grandmother aged visibly. I suddenly felt afraid of the spring steps, afraid that the flowing stream of time would gradually erode my grandmother’s health. And then, after many years of wandering far away, my parents returned to their hometown to pay off their old debts and built a spacious, well-furnished house. That year’s Tet was the happiest and warmest Tet of my family. During the New Year’s meal, my grandmother smiled toothlessly and gently said: “This is the Tet I have been waiting for all my life!” Who would have thought that, not long after Tet, she would fall ill and pass away peacefully like the falling peach blossoms at the end of the season…

Spring is placing a wistful kiss on the peaceful little village. Somewhere, from the old kitchens, the scent of Tet is gently spreading. Even though my grandmother has passed on to the other world, every time I gently open the window to welcome the new day, I always see in the pure sunlight, my grandmother’s toothless smile from that year…

Phan Duc Loc

(People's Police Academy)