The colors of April...

(Baonghean) - It seems few can resist the vibrant beauty of spring flowers and plants, but for us children back then, April was the most wonderful and warmly welcomed time. April of sunshine, wind, and clouds…

April arrives, awakening delicate yet spirited flowers. There are the pure pink lotus buds unexpectedly rising from the mud, their fragrant scent filling the village pond. Even the clumps of roses by the porch shyly display their thin petals, attracting butterflies and bees. The purple crape myrtle and red flamboyant trees ignore the urging of spring, waiting for the warm April sun to penetrate the very depths of their leaves before finally opening their buds. The colors of April are truly dazzling, not only in the leaves and flowers, but also in the rosy blush on the cheeks of village girls, and the fluttering red and green of the last warm blankets mothers hang out to dry before putting them away…

Illustration: Hong Toai

April arrives with a cacophony of sounds. The chirping of magpies announces the ripening of guavas, inviting starlings, wagtails, warblers, and kingfishers to join in the lively chirping as they hop from branch to branch. The old bamboo groves also joyfully greet the arrival of the wind with their creaking. In the distance, the loud crowing of a young rooster sets the rhythm for a chorus of cicadas that resounds day and night. Most memorable is the poignant, yearning call of the cuckoo from the distant fields, heralding the arrival of summer. We children were overjoyed, eagerly anticipating the season of ripe fruits. The scent of ripe guavas, ripe starfruit, pineapples, loquats, and persimmons permeated the entire summer.

April returns, awakening innocent childhood memories for those far from home. The April sun dries the mud on the earthen courtyard, providing a place for children to run, jump, and play. The strong April wind lifts kites high into the sky each evening. Remembering those days herding buffalo to the fields, each child carrying a small kite, made of bamboo, covered with newspaper or cement, with a long tail like a stingray. Barefoot and bareheaded, we'd run along the dike, competing to see whose kite flew the highest and most beautifully. When tired, we'd rest our heads on the grass and tell jokes, feeling that poverty and hunger were somewhere far away…

I remember those summer afternoons sneaking away from my mother to chase countless dragonflies. It seems April is dragonfly season. I don't know where all those red dragonflies and needle dragonflies came from, but they swarmed the hibiscus and chrysanthemum bushes. When I was six, I believed the old folks Tâm and Tí, the mischievous neighbors, and scoured the garden to catch a dragonfly, letting it bite my navel until it turned red, believing that doing so would teach me how to swim. That afternoon, I excitedly jumped into the irrigation ditch near my house, much to the surprise of my friends, only to flounder and swallow a lot of water before Phi grabbed my hair and pulled me to shore. After that incident, I was angry with them for a whole month and completely gave up swimming in rivers and ponds. So, despite living near a river, I was the only one in the neighborhood who couldn't swim…

April arrives, bringing with it memories of school days before farewells, of unspoken words to a classmate as graduation day approaches. It's so poignant, so full of emotion… Oh, April!

Phan Ha Long