Purple xoan flower season

I returned to my hometown on a wet day, when spring rains were still drizzling all over the village roads and alleys. The whole space seemed to be immersed in a thick fog. My footsteps kept walking on the familiar village road and then stopped in front of a purple flower. In an overwhelming joy, I realized it was a xoan flower. My memory seemed to have forgotten the purple xoan color on a rainy afternoon years ago, now seeing it again, my heart suddenly filled with tears.

Twenty years have passed, I thought that time had erased everything, erased all my childhood memories, but strangely, when standing in the space of the old days, the memories seemed clearer than ever. The xoan flowers appeared like childhood friends. I remember the spring days around January and February, the light drizzle flying down to the sky and earth, white silk curtains, at the same time along both sides of the village road, the xoan trees began to bloom. At first, there were small flower buds, as small as buttons. Standing below and looking up, they did not clearly form a flower but looked like clusters of dotted, purple, floating flowers. The color of the xoan flowers was also very strange. It was not as pure white as plum flowers, nor as purple as the purple of the Lagerstroemia. The color of the flowers seemed to be a mixture of two white and purple tones, creating a dreamy, vague purple color.

Not everyone who sees xoan flowers for the first time will be infatuated with them, but must go through months of attachment, slowly feel and then love them. Because xoan flowers are flowers with a strange scent. The scent is pungent, pungent, and strong. Most of the people in my hometown love this wild flower. Therefore, they are planted in every alley and hamlet. The xoan tree is like a symbol of the peaceful countryside. I remember the times I came home from work in the fields, my hands and feet still covered in mud, my laughter melted into the sweet spring breeze, the scent of xoan flowers lingered indescribably. I remember my student years, cycling through the village road filled with purple xoan flowers. The mischievous student stopped when he saw a gust of wind about to pass by, looked up at the blooming flower canopy, reached out to catch the "xoan rain" and giggled. The color of xoan flowers blended with the pure joy of student life.

Remembering the purple xoan flower season, I remember my first love with a friend with pigtails at the age of seventeen, a dreamy girl. She was a person who was passionate about xoan flowers, and knew many poems about xoan flowers. Our love was pure, every afternoon after extra classes, on our "iron horse", we stopped under the arch of xoan flowers to read poems to each other. "That day, the spring rain was flying happily / The xoan flowers fell layer by layer / The rowing club of Dang village passed by the alley / Mother said: Thon Doai is singing tonight...". Nguyen Binh's poems kept humming in the faint scent of xoan flowers. Time flies by, and in the blink of an eye, my first love has been gone for twenty years or so. Only the color of the xoan flowers remains the same, still purple with a vague sadness that cannot be expressed in words. I feel wistful when remembering my first love, remembering the color of the xoan flowers of the past.

I know that memories will always be memories, but for me, how happy I am to relive the memories of my childhood years associated with the beloved purple xoan flower color. The flower color has accompanied me through the years, like a friend, a solid luggage to calmly step into life...

Essay by MAI HOANG