Written for my last summer!

(Baonghean)“Summer has arrived, the exam season is over. The flame trees are ablaze around the courtyard…” Listening to the opening lines of the song “Summer Farewell,” so many memories come flooding back…

Illustrative image

The final summer of our student life feels strangely unsettling. At our age, we no longer have those dreamy moments of exchanging farewell notes or idly gazing at the vibrant red blossoms of the crape myrtle and flamboyant trees in the distance. Instead, we're burdened with worries and anxieties. The tea stalls by the school gate, once our usual hangouts, are now empty of familiar faces as some are busy with their theses, others cramming for final exams. Yes, the sweltering, stifling June heat in the city seems to herald the bumps and obstacles we're about to face. Our classmates are a mix of excitement and sadness; some eagerly await graduation to find jobs, while others are downcast because of outstanding courses or the new English proficiency requirements that have forced them to miss their diplomas. A whirlwind of emotions, both joy and sorrow, overwhelms these final-year students. The last class ended just yesterday, but it feels like it was so long ago. Everyone was rushing to capture the moments of teachers and students, friends and classmates under the blazing flame trees, so that even when they are far apart, they can still…see each other.

Four years of university life isn't a long time, but it's enough for us to grow and figure out what path we should truly choose. Because not everyone who graduates with a degree can find a job in their field of study. Everyone worries…

Someone once said, "When one door closes, another opens!" And for us final-year students, graduating means stepping into the world, proving ourselves with the knowledge we've accumulated during our four years in university and in the fast-paced, ever-changing world.

Student life comes to an end, filled with excitement, anticipation, and mixed feelings of wistfulness and anxiety as we leave the lecture halls. Let me borrow a few lines from the poem "The First Leaf" by poet Hoang Nhuan Cam to serve as my final words: "I want to say so much, I want to cry so much / The first song I sing is about my old school / A classroom, a wistful shade of green / The schoolyard at night - The banyan fruit falls at night."

Duy Ngoi