Nobita of his parents

(Baonghean) - When I was little, my dad – the neighborhood's English translator – decided to teach me to sing "Love you more than I can say" to please my mom. The problem was, my mom was terrible at English, so I ended up singing it all day long all over the neighborhood: "Oh oh de de, ai lop diu mo gien ai ken xay…". Everyone praised me as an English prodigy, and my dad got to brag. Whenever guests came over, he'd run to find me (who was loitering at the neighbor's house) to sing it for him. I'd run home as fast as I could, and as soon as I reached the gate, I'd yell, "Don't you know I love you so…". Being a prodigy exhausted me and hoarse my throat!

Later, when I could read a storybook fluently at an age when no normal child knew how to read (actually, I memorized the story by listening to my mother read it, showing it off to my dad's friends, hehe), then when I diligently learned to read by myself with the introduction of a coloring book, and then when I entered first grade and was praised by my teacher for being bright... my dad still had the same initial reaction: grinning happily and running around showing off everywhere. Many times when I got a perfect score, it was as if my dad was the one being praised in front of the class. I wonder who's the most childish person in the house? Later, when I got a little older, I didn't find it funny anymore when my dad was so happy to see my grades.

I understand that this is how my father expresses his love. Because of love, he believes that what he cherishes is good and perfect. Perhaps some will say that this love is somewhat blind and extreme, because no one and nothing is perfect, and imposing a perfect ideal on them can lead to two possibilities: either a distorted perception, seeing what is not good as good; or pressure to be "perfect" for the person being expected to be. But love itself is inherently blind, isn't it? Blind because it goes against our survival instincts and self-preservation. Blind because we are willing to sacrifice ourselves to protect what we love. Blind because we keep giving without expecting anything in return. Reason says we are blind, but the heart says it is a sincere and intense love, a natural feeling that blossoms within us without us ever questioning "Why?".

Long after I stumbled in life, the hardest thing for me was looking into my father's eyes, which always shone with love, faith, and pride. Had that light faded? I always believed in myself because my father believed in me, and I believed he was always right. Belief has an incredibly strong bridging effect; if one link in that chain is broken, everything collapses like dominoes. My father proved me wrong when he steadfastly believed in what he believed in—in me, in my success. I believe in my father, and I believe in myself.

Love, sometimes, isn't about loving what you see at a particular moment. To love someone or something means loving them in the past, present, and future. The same goes for trust. When you question your current beliefs, think about the reasons that gave you that trust in the past and give it a chance in the future. If Vietnamese grammar had verb conjugations, I believe the verbs "trust" and "love" should be in their base form, because these are two emotions that don't depend on space and time. Love and trust are absolute, and that's how it should be.

My younger sibling is taking the university entrance exam this year. A few days ago, they complained to me: "If I fail the exam, my dad will never look at me again!" My dear, if people stopped believing in and loving someone because of a flaw, then the whole world would be filled with hatred and indifference, because no one in this world is perfect, right? Your failure, your sadness, your parents will be sad. They are sad because of their love and expectations. But sadness is never a knife that can kill love. In the Doraemon manga, Nobita's parents sometimes scold their lazy, stupid, and weak son, yet we absolutely don't feel the heavy atmosphere of disappointment or pressure in this series. Why do we love Doraemon so much? Is it because we see a Nobita in each of us, who may be weak, may have flaws, but is still our parents' beloved child?

Hai Trieu

(Email from Paris)