Letter written in alley number 1

Dear sister!

Tonight, like every other night I return home on the street, the only difference is, I stopped at alley number 1 that I love so much in my life, alley number 1 that we love so much. It is the last day of autumn. Cold dew, dim moon. And the scent of tuberose suddenly wafts in. I wonder if it is the scent of the flower tree from more than 10 years ago, or the scent of flowers that I imagined…

I miss you so much, me from more than 10 years ago. The me from the North who followed my husband to Nghe An to be a daughter-in-law. The me from the early days of struggling to start a career, giving birth, renting a house. The me from alley number 1, the alley just a row of houses on the street outside Le Hong Phong, but "like belonging to another world, full of countryside, peaceful" as you once said. And me, who lived, loved enthusiastically, devoted myself as if I had never known the difficulties ahead.

House number 1 in alley number 1 is the house of an old “poet”, introduced to me by a colleague to rent a room. The house is a level 4 house, tiled roof, hidden under a cool green grape trellis, in front of the door is a tuberose bush, next to the water tank is a magnolia tree, a lovely garden of custard apples and guavas filled with birdsong every morning, a red brick yard with patches of green moss. I have loved so many houses, yards, gardens, grape trellis and birdsong. My sister too, she cried out in that space when she hurried from Hanoi to visit me, even though afterwards, she hid her face behind my hair and cried. She was afraid that this dreamy girl would not be good at “fighting” with reality – a place where she did not have many acquaintances or supporters.

The days we stayed in Vinh were the days when she said, “I’ll take you to get to know my city,” but in fact I was also absent-minded when I walked with her. We took pictures together in the square, walked on Ngu Hai sidewalk, looked at the green trees touching each other, and remembered a part of Hanoi on Phan Dinh Phung street, ate a cold cup of yogurt at Mrs. Lien’s shop on Dang Thai Than street, and then wandered to Tam Giac flower garden. Late in the afternoon, we sat together by Goong lake, a small shop with a few plastic chairs, watching the young trees by the lake in the season of shedding their leaves, and when the last cool breezes came, they seemed to gracefully lean down to the stirring lake below. That night, we sat together in “Street Corner” listening to Trinh’s guitar, the piece was played by the skinny hands of an artist whose life was too bitter. She asked me, do you miss Hanoi, I nodded. She asked me: Do you want to go back to Hanoi? I didn't say anything, just surprised why she asked me that, because to me, any place with the person you love is a place worth living.

I fell in love with this city, starting from my love for one person. Isn’t it like Trinh said: Remembering one person, to remember everyone when he wrote about autumn in Hanoi.

Days passed, months passed, years passed. My once eager heart has been too busy and tired, but my love for this place has grown deeper and deeper. I know, you still follow my every step, holding your breath to see how I will overcome the difficulties. You worry that one day, I will cry in your hair and say: I want to come back to you, to our Hanoi! As for me, I have always walked with my inherent dreaminess, as if I had “never known hardship”. Now thinking back, I understand, it turns out, faith and dreaminess have given me more than I thought. It makes me take lightly all the things that people often consider “barriers” or “hardships”… something of this busy life.

Dear sister!

Vinh Street is now very different from the past, although there are still peaceful small alleys just one block away from the main road. You will still see flocks of pigeons suddenly flying out, landing on the empty streets every morning, when the sun has just risen in the early winter mist. You will still see the old apartment buildings that, when you passed by them at dusk, you said “how unimaginably sad”. There are still rows of night porridge shops on Ho Sy Duong Street, and rows of trees with leaves touching each other on Ngu Hai Street… But the biggest difference is that to me, the street is no longer strange. The street is a familiar street. The street has long been “my” street.

The day I left the small alley - where I rented a room during my first years with Vinh - I had come back many times, getting used to it. I came back unconsciously. After that, I came back to visit the old alley many times, like tonight. I blamed it on the cold winter weather, the scent of jasmine, the dim moon... But it turned out that deep inside me was nostalgia, memories that guided me, things I had been attached to, loved, that were hard to leave, to stop thinking about. Like missing you, for example...

This afternoon, after work, I rewarded myself with relaxing hours, forgetting the noisy streets, and riding with some close friends to the road along the Lam River. The road we used to travel on years ago, only had a dike full of wild grass, and at night many fireflies were flying and flickering. Now it is a wide road for several lanes of traffic, leading straight to Cua Hoi and Cua Lo. I can't stop missing you, remembering what we shared together, the joys and sorrows. Standing in front of the beautiful scenes of nature and life, I also aroused the desire to see it with you. And I remember the days when we sat together and practiced singing the song "Neo dau ben que" by musician An Thuyen. You said: Because of you, I also fell in love with the song about Nghe An, I also fell in love with the people of Nghe An. This afternoon, that song has flown with me down the Lam River. I looked down there, the boats were peacefully cutting through the waves, I saw the buffaloes of the people of Hung Dung, Hung Hoa slowly wading down the river, I saw the red sun gradually going down the edge of the waves... I wanted to hold your hand so much. I believe that, if you could witness that scene with me, you would not stop exclaiming: How wonderful! And you would understand why I love this land more and more. I feel lucky to have stopped here, to have the opportunity to choose for myself peaceful afternoons, to choose for myself "lost night fragrance" nights like tonight, to choose for myself a "slow life" to be able to feel more deeply about what I experience.

In a letter to me years ago, I wrote: “Every time I think of you, I think of you walking alone into that small alley - alley number 1. I love your little shadow, I love the little child inside you, I love the stubborn child who “didn’t marry a husband nearby, married a husband far away” to miss his homeland in that far away place.” Yes, your old alley, your little shadow, the little child inside you… is still here. But I am slowly walking back to this alley number 1 to look back at myself in the past days, to thank the sorrows and pains, the longing for home that I have carried, to be able to create the me of today. The me of a day that calmed all joys and sorrows, chose serenity and peace. The me of a day that became intimate with this place, became a part of its heart, knew every pothole, every season of trees changing leaves, every happy and sad intersection, every face of people. The me of a day that understood: when we know how to love, the land also has a soul.

Sister, I want to send you the scent of tuberose tonight, as well as send you all my longing. I look forward to welcoming you at Vinh Station soon (you always love taking the train), and I will surely be able to close my eyes and lead you through each street… Come back, with me, and Vinh.

my sister