The end of memories

(Baonghean) -When I was a child, my mother often took me to the beach. On the smooth sand, I chattered after her, babbling: "Mom, why are all the waves as white as grandma's hair?" My mother lovingly stroked my head, speaking as if in a whisper: "Because the waves miss you, my child...!". I was still chattering: "Who do the waves miss, mom?" Hearing my question, my mother smiled while her eyes looked out into the distance, looking out at the thousands of waves...

That day, my father went towards the sea. My mother said that he went with the happy waves, went with the waves of nostalgia, to the distant islands, to become an island soldier. One time when my father came home to visit, I was absorbed in looking at his skin tanned by the sun and wind, and was absorbed in listening to his salty voice. Holding me in his arms, my father told me about the sea and the islands. On those islands in the deep ocean, for soldiers, hardship and sacrifice, joy and nostalgia are equal, shared with each other. I innocently asked: "Dad, I see the sea is all water and waves, how can an island stand on it? An island floats on a buoy, right, Dad?" My father smiled: "An island does not float on a buoy, my son. An island can stand in the middle of the sky and water because it is the flesh and blood of Mother Earth, extending out to the middle of the sea. Islands are the children of Mother Earth. Mother Earth gives birth to its children - islands, just as parents give birth to their children." Dad also said: "Mother raised her children with her milk, rocked them to sleep with her loving lullabies. Like mother, the sea is the milk, the cradle that nurtures the children - the islands of Mother Earth. When the waves are calm, the wind is gentle, that is when the sea is happy. Thousands of hands of the sea rock the cradle, caress, caress and sing endless lullabies to the islands. On stormy days, it is not that the sea is angry with the islands, but that is when Mother Earth asks the sea to raise waves to test the courage of her children, to make them strong and grow up."

During the years my father was stationed on a remote island, American planes roared overhead; American warships hovered offshore. Yet every afternoon after duty, carrying a rifle on her shoulder, my mother took me to the beach and looked toward the horizon. I followed her eyes. Far away, beyond the vastness of those thousands of waves, there were islands - children conceived from the flesh and blood of Mother Earth. There, my father and the soldiers stayed awake day and night by their guns to protect their children at the head of Mother Earth's stormy waves. Strangely, over the years, in me, the longing for my father became the longing for the sea, became the longing for the islands. In my childhood subconscious, the longing for the sea, the longing for the islands transformed into white-capped waves. It was not round but bursting; it was not quiet but seething; it was not peaceful but surging! My mother said: "Whoever has that longing has reached the end of longing!"

Then my father returned. The day he returned, the sea was a peaceful blue. But somewhere, dark ghosts were still lurking. I took up my gun again, following the path my father had taken throughout the turbulent years, fulfilling my heart's desire, becoming an island soldier. During the nights standing guard among thousands of waves, I understood the vastness and abundance of the sea and the island. I deeply felt a thousand times the sacredness of each drop of sweat, each drop of blood our ancestors shed for the peace of the sea, the island, and the Motherland. I loved so much the endless longing my father had felt for those days. And, it was my father, it was my mother's longing that called me back to the sea, called me back to the island, so that I could go to the end of my longing!

Nguyen Xuan Dieu