Mom's spring kitchen

Every time Tet comes, I often miss my mother's kitchen. The kitchen is tiny but contains so many memories. There, the whole family gathered together, laughing and chatting happily with simple but extremely cozy meals. There is the aroma of spicy ginger jam, sweet white coconut jam and tiny, beloved leaf cakes. Those are beautiful, sweet and cozy memories like the fire my mother lit, burning brightly during the cold days and then through the warm spring.

It is not exactly a kitchen, but rather a hut that my parents built on the side of the main house. The kitchen is tiny, just enough for six people to sit, a small tripod and surrounded by pots, pans, firewood and torches. Because it is temporary, the wind is always waiting to blow in when it has the chance. But what can I do when economic conditions do not allow, my parents have to make do to provide family meals. I often go to my mother's kitchen when I first wake up early or come back from somewhere to warm my hands. And I realize that spring comes earlier thanks to my mother's kitchen. At this time, my mother's kitchen is filled with pots, pans and familiar ingredients such as ginger, carrots, coconut, sugar, salt...

Mom's spring kitchen always has the spicy taste of the old ginger batches that she prepares to make jam every Tet holiday. When the cold winter winds outside are still lingering, she rushes down to the kitchen to make jam. The saying "as happy as Tet" that people often say is true for me on days like that. I have the opportunity to "show off" to my mother, helping her with nameless tasks such as slicing coconut, cutting ginger into pieces or simply adding firewood to the stove. Children today are happier than we were in the past, because there are many choices of candies of all kinds. But for me back then, Tet only needed to enjoy a few pieces of ginger jam or coconut jam to feel very happy. The jams were made from homegrown plants, rustic, simple and sweet, unforgettable. I was happy on a spring day with the sun pouring down like honey, sitting on the porch, slowly munching on each delicious slice of jam.

Mother's spring kitchen always depicts the image of a hard-working woman with a face covered in black soot. The years have pushed into every wrinkle, making her visibly older. As the years have passed, every spring, mother's kitchen is still on fire from morning to evening, diligently making each batch of jam to complete the joy of her children's spring. Until the children grow up and go to other lands to make a living.

Children far from home returning to the small kitchen are always filled with happiness because having their mother means having spring. For many years away from home, my heart always aches for the day I return, when my mother's kitchen is neat but not filled with the voices of her children. There is still the spicy aroma of ginger jam, the sweet coconut jam but the air seems desolate, my mother sits alone. There are days when I wake up in despair, the cold is biting my skin, spring sways with dancing golden rays of sunlight, I long for my mother's spring kitchen, I long to fall into her arms and whine, I long to see spring shining in every fire and in the smiling eyes of the person.