Happy International Children's Day June 1: Don't go far, childhood...

(Baonghean) - Who would have thought that the sun is a flower, opening its petals every morning?

Joy in the fields. Photo: Ho Long

Who would have thought that the sparrows and the wind were playing together in the field, and suddenly ran after my crisp laughter behind my mother's sweaty shirt?

Who would have thought that I could turn into clouds to shade my father's head in the hot noon, and that the wishes I made flying with kites on the grassy dike would come true in the near future?

It can only be children, it can only be childhood! Divine childhood. The eyes of children, even though born in poverty and hardship, still sparkle with a dreamy look at the colorful world. And dreams, dreams that fly without being held back by any reality...

I was once surprised when my second grade daughter, in a descriptive essay, compared bunches of longan to a swarm of bees. I tried to explain to her that the comparison seemed a bit lame, but she still maintained her opinion: No, I looked at them and thought of a swarm of bees. I even felt like they were about to fly. Another time, with a sad face, a second grade student confided to her mother: Mom, why wasn't my childhood so "good"? I was very surprised: Why do you say that? Your parents always tried to give you the best? No, I saw many friends say that they were happy when they helped their parents with housework, went to the countryside to catch fish, cut bamboo and make bamboo sticks to pass around...

Oh, it turns out I've been so far from my childhood. Far from the little girl who burst into tears in the small garden when she saw a green onion sprout from the dry, crooked bulb that she secretly hid from her grandmother and put down next to the kohlrabi plants. So far away, the happiness of waiting for half a year to receive a gift of a fairy tale book that my father promised to bring back during his leave to visit home... And now, I've tried so hard so that my child won't have a single day of deprivation, but why does he feel so lacking?

Was I wrong? Wrong like so many adults are wrong, to keep looking at children with our own eyes? And giving them what we want them to receive? Was I wrong, to let myself stray too far from my childhood memories, so that when I look back, I suddenly realize that the young girl in the mirror seems to have no connection with me? I sadly realize that when my imagination has gone, I am smarter, more alert, but also seem less happy...

And tonight, I sat for a long time watching my daughter sleep... Placing my lips on her forehead, I wanted to whisper: My daughter, I'm sorry!

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