Watching the autumns go by...

(Baonghean) - On a weekend afternoon, I allow myself a moment of relaxation, driving around the long streets, letting my thoughts wander aimlessly. The autumn sky is clear and blue, the wind rustles through the small streets, and the fragrant scent of milk flowers fills the air. I hear the poignant melody of Khanh Ly's song by Trinh Cong Son: "The autumn wind has arrived / The twilight stains the sidewalks with purple / And the wind kisses my hair / Then autumn flies away…"

Illustration photo: An Vinh

In Thanh Vinh during autumn, the sky was high and clear. On the summit of Mount Quyet, the banyan trees had gradually turned red, occasionally a few yellow leaves fell, swirling and rustling before clinging to tangled hair, and wild wildflowers painted the path purple. Standing out among these wildflowers were the fragrant purple bellflowers. Back when she was a student, during a camping trip on Mount Dung Quyet, a friend from her Biology department had explained about this flower. He said that bellflowers were one of the most resilient wildflowers, often returning faithfully year after year. They also carried the meaning of perseverance due to their tenacious ability to survive and their willingness to refuse being taken: the swaying bell-shaped flowers would quickly droop once picked. Therefore, although she loved that faithful purple color, she never reached out to pick a bellflower; she was afraid of the drooping, withered petals…

In Thanh Vinh during autumn, Ho Chi Minh Square is ablaze with vibrant colors; joyful flags and national flags flutter in the brilliant autumn sun; lush green lawns; rows of bamboo trees on Chung Mountain rustle in the wind; and straight rows of betel nut trees release their delicate fragrance… Looking up at the statue of Uncle Ho, one feels a warmth in their heart, as if the question, “Can my compatriots hear me clearly?” from that historic moment years ago is echoing…

In autumn, it's easy to find peaceful, romantic scenes right in the midst of the bustling city streets. Time seems to slow down, a touch of melancholy lingers like a spider's web. Driving slowly allows you to feel the gentle, calm arrival of autumn and to contemplate and reflect on people and life. You wander through narrow alleys and old streets with houses with "dark brown" tiled roofs nestled under the cool shade of banyan trees. Stopping at a snack shop on Kim Dong Street, a small street nestled beneath tall buildings and shaded by green trees, you sit there for an hour, listening to a few jokes and cheerful laughter from the group of friends at the next table. But that's just an excuse to watch the bustling crowds, gaze at the sky and clouds, and watch the autumn leaves fall, finding a little peace for yourself…

Autumn in Thanh Vinh means nights spent waking up suddenly from the cold, reaching out to turn off the slowly spinning fan, pulling the blanket over oneself like a cocoon; mornings waking up early, the sky high and clear, the wind rustling and vast. Taking a deep breath, letting down long hair reaching to the waist, smiling as one steps out into the street, blending into the bustling traffic. It's the late nights returning from work, the chill seeping into every fiber of one's clothing. Hands trembling slightly, the wind caressing soft lips. Suddenly wishing, if only someone would take my hand and give me warmth… It's the Sunday mornings, going to Goong Cafe, choosing a seat by the balcony, inhaling the scent of milk flowers, composing an SMS: "I'm sitting here and missing you," then saving it to drafts. These are messages that are never sent. Occasionally, because there are too many, they have to be deleted… In autumn, someone still wanders along the endless streets, letting their thoughts drift far away. Suddenly I remember, we've never spent autumn together. That's why the feeling of holding hands in autumn remains so far away in my dreams. Therefore, my longing for autumn grows deeper, more agonizing, more desolate. My eyes well up with tears when I hear this melody:

"Watching the autumn pass by / My hands are numb with sadness, embracing regret / Listening to the cold wind at night."

Twenty years of sorrow fill the blue eyes / Pity for others, then coldness in one's own heart..."

Thanh Tuong