Short story: Birds in the storm

Hoang had a habit of staying up late. Many times his wife had to remind him to go to bed early so he wouldn’t miss the company shuttle bus tomorrow morning. However, there were many times when he woke up and the bus had already started moving, so he had to quickly put on his uniform and rush off. He knew staying up late was not a good thing, but it had become a habit and was hard to get rid of overnight.
But the other morning, for some unknown reason, Hoang suddenly woke up when the sky was just getting light. Perhaps he had just escaped from a dream, trying to close his eyes but could not sleep anymore. So he got up. He gently pushed the blanket away, tiptoed out of bed so as not to wake his wife and children. Walking out to the living room, he poured a glass of water, then leisurely stood leaning against the window frame. Outside, the dawn was rising, the pink color lightly dyed the sky, the early morning wind was gentle. A peaceful morning, as if it was just for him.
Suddenly, Hoang heard the chirping of birds right outside the door. He listened carefully and realized that mixed in with the chirping sounds of hungry baby birds. Curious, he pushed the window open and looked out. After a long while, his eyes caught sight of the small nest nest nested on the upper canopy of the milk flower tree. The apartment was on the third floor, just at the same level as the treetops swaying in the early morning breeze. Hoang smiled, watching the parent birds hovering and hopping around the small nest. A simple yet touching scene of life made his heart suddenly feel lighter.
Today was supposed to be a beautiful sunny day. The sky was high and wide, with a few white clouds drifting lazily. Hoang suddenly thought that those baby birds were as hungry as his little boy. Every time he wanted milk, he cried until his ears ached, but as soon as he got his bottle in his mouth, he immediately became quiet, lay down obediently, and sucked. At that moment, looking at his round, innocent face, Hoang felt both pity and amusement, and just wanted to lie down next to his child and kiss and gently bite his soft cheeks.
The number of baby birds in the nest was unknown, the dense foliage obscured it, revealing only a corner of the small nest, skillfully woven from straw and dry grass. Surely the father and mother birds would be hurrying from branch to branch, bringing back food for their children. The sun gradually rose, the clear morning sunlight spilled onto the ground. The early morning breeze passed through the crack in the door, blowing gently and coolly, stirring the hair on Hoang's forehead. Standing by the door frame, listening to the chirping of birds, he suddenly felt strangely light-hearted. It turned out that for so long, he had forgotten a peaceful, clear moment right before his eyes. Perhaps, he should practice waking up early sometimes, to be in time to welcome the dawn.
He took a deep breath, filling his chest, then returned to bed. The sound of the baby crying made his wife turn over. Hoang bent down, patted the baby's back, the baby turned around and hugged the pillow tightly, then fell asleep again. His wife smiled gently, softly said: "Did something happen that you woke up so early?" Having said that, she gently brushed her hair, got out of bed to prepare breakfast. Everything returned to its familiar rhythm: When she put the baby on the kindergarten bus, Hoang also got on the company bus. A new day began, seemingly normal but still different, thanks to the morning just passed.
But the peaceful sky this morning made Hoang somewhat restless and worried. He remembered the radio had just reported: A storm had formed in the East Sea and was rushing towards the shore. The storm seemed unusual, as in just a short period of time it had intensified and shortened its path compared to other storms. Before the storm, the sky was usually strangely clear and blue, the wind was calm and the sun was beautiful, which could easily make people complacent.
Arriving at the company, turning on the computer, Hoang saw the urgent storm news. Tomorrow afternoon, it would make landfall in the coastal provinces. His factory was located near the eye of the storm. Today, he and his colleagues had to quickly deploy prevention plans. Caution is always needed, because a few storms sweep through this area every year is a common occurrence. Hoang still remembered the April storm, the wind knocked down a fence more than thirty meters long in the south of the factory. Luckily, no one was injured. But this time, according to the forecast, the storm would be stronger and more ferocious.
Hoang went to each place, personally checking the doors, the roof, and the ties. Only when he saw the green ticks on the records did his heart feel somewhat at peace. But the peace was only superficial, somewhere in his chest still arose an indescribable uneasiness.
At noon, the sky was still windless. The golden autumn sunlight poured down on the ground, not as harsh as in the summer, but gentle and caressing. September had arrived, the autumn season was faint. However, every time the seasons changed, the weather was capricious, storms and floods often chose this time to return. Hoang suddenly remembered the storm and flood seasons in the old days in his poor hometown. Thatched houses, tiled roofs, no matter how well they were secured, after the storm, the whole town was still desolate and devastated. Now, the houses were built with sturdy concrete, which seemed more reassuring, but he still had worries about the corrugated iron roofs that could be blown off, the billboards that could easily fly away, or the rows of trees that could be uprooted in the fierce wind.
After work in the afternoon, Hoang returned home and prepared dinner with his wife. Standing by the window, he suddenly listened, strangely, he could no longer hear the chirping of baby birds like in the morning. Perhaps the birds had fallen asleep. A moment later, from afar, Hoang caught a glimpse of the father bird flying back, then the flock of little birds chirping for food. It must have just brought back some wriggling worms for its babies. But the wind was getting stronger and stronger, the milk flower branch where the small nest was placed swayed constantly. Hoang suddenly worried: Would the flock of baby birds survive the fierce storm raging offshore?
As dusk fell, the wind grew stronger, blowing through the air thick with humidity. The sky was filled with dark gray clouds. Hoang looked up and suddenly heard the first drops of rain hitting the yard. The rain quickly thickened, the wind whipped up streaks of water that splashed against the window frame. In just a moment, the rain was pouring down heavily; lightning flashed brightly, then thunder shook the glass window.
The little boy was sitting on the sofa watching cartoons, when he heard the thunder, he was startled and rushed to hug his father's leg. Hoang picked him up, patted him gently, and whispered to comfort him: "Daddy is here, Shin, don't be afraid." On TV, the news was constantly updated: The storm was only 190 kilometers from the mainland, with wind gusts of level 16. Thinking of the scene of trees falling down, and metal roofs flying away, his heart suddenly felt cold. He wondered if this year, the trees in the residential area would be strong enough to stand up to the terrible wind that was about to hit.
Tomorrow morning is his day off, Hoang doesn’t have to go to the factory unless there’s an emergency. The kindergarten has also announced that the children will be off school. Luckily, it’s his day off, so he can stay home with his children. Outside, the rain is getting heavier, the wind howling in long gusts. The storm hasn’t even started yet, but the sky is already tilting like this. Occasionally, a bolt of lightning streaks across the sky, bright and then gone, leaving a dark, compressed space.
Hoang held his child and stood by the window, looking out into the misty space. Suddenly, his heart ached as he thought of the small bird nest nestled under the milk flower canopy right next to the window. Could the baby birds withstand this fierce storm? In the yellow light from the electric pole, he saw the tree branches shaking violently. If they were accidentally uprooted or broken, the fragile nest would have no place to stay. He held his child tighter, feeling worried for the little creatures that he had accidentally discovered just the other morning during one of his rare early mornings.
As night fell, the phone continuously vibrated with urgent messages about natural disaster prevention. The forecast said: The storm was still standing still at sea, as if waiting, holding back, before it would strike its terrible claws on the coastal strip of Central Vietnam. Hoang wished for a miracle to push it back out to sea… But he knew, a wish was just a wish.
That night, when he got up to drink some water, Hoang heard a soft chirping sound coming through the door. The sound was young, fragile, and almost fearful. It was that bird’s cry that kept him awake all night. And before dawn, he called the apartment management. They listened, then agreed to help him take down the bird’s nest the next morning.
The crane with the hanging basket lifted the worker up near the tree canopy. The sparrow nest was brought down, three red baby birds were bustling about, their eyes not yet fully open. Hoang held it in his hands, his heart suddenly filled with tender love. His son cried out with joy, seeing those little creatures for the first time. On the bookshelf next to the window, Hoang made a small compartment, lined it with a towel, and placed the bird nest in it. The wind howled louder and louder, the glass door shook violently. The hungry birds chirped, Hoang fed them some white rice grains, they eagerly took them, then fell silent, lying close together.
Outside, the storm had hit earlier than expected. The wind was howling, the rain was pouring down. Water was splashing through the cracks in the door, Hoang had to block it with rags. He held his son in his arms, comforting him, while the little boy was still curiously asking to see the birds on the bookshelf. The sky was dark, and it would be a long, stormy night.
In the morning, the storm had passed. The sky was only drizzling and gray. If one did not look at the rows of broken and uprooted trees lying everywhere, one would think that there had never been a storm. Hoang was startled to see the milk flower tree in front of the window broken in half and lying flat on the brick yard. Woe to the bird's nest, if it had not been brought down in time, there would have been nothing left.
In the room, the baby birds were chirping again, innocent as if they had never experienced a stormy night. The little boy woke up early, insisting that his father pick them up to look at them. And there, outside the window, two birds were circling back and forth, then swooping down close, as if looking for their children. Hoang was surprised, then smiled: perhaps it was the father bird and mother bird.
This morning, Hoang knew what he had to do. He would find a sturdy branch, put the little nest outside, so that the baby birds could return to their parents, return to the open sky. In the quiet room, their soft chirping mixed with the occasional raindrops. Hoang's heart suddenly calmed down. After the storm, there would always be peaceful mornings again, when he stood by this window, listening to the birds calling for a new day.

Le Ngoc Son