January sunshine

The golden rays of sunlight still poured down on the deserted alley. January was a clear blue sky, trees and grass were budding. I walked out into the yard, looking at the long, wide road going back and forth. The hurried departures, on the porch my old mother stood with her arms out to block the sun, watching the familiar figure disappear behind the tall bushes at the end of the alley.

We also began to melt into the bustling crowd, returning to the life of a stranger. The meal before leaving was filled with nostalgia, when mom hesitated to say something but then stopped, when dad walked back and forth but couldn’t find an excuse to ask us to stay. The moments of silence fell, no one said anything to anyone, only numb eyes looking at each other. Mom’s food was still in the kitchen, tears suddenly fell when mom sadly said: “The food hasn’t been finished yet, why are you leaving so soon?” Time kept passing by, the hustle and bustle of life seemed to sweep us away. Like the first time leaving mom, the worries and anxieties were still intact even though we were grown up now. Reaching out to catch the golden drops of January sunshine, my heart was filled with emotion and wonder.

The roof of the countryside house, through all four seasons of rain and sunshine, through the vicissitudes of life, parents still sit and wait for their children to return and then leave. Mother no longer tells us all kinds of things in life, no longer fears the distant streets, no longer fears the deceptions and losses. But mother fears the hasty calls home, fears the trips home with a lot of work. Father sits watching the sunlight fall on the porch, squinting his eyes towards the distant road. Over there, the children leave their parents' arms and blend into the vast sea of ​​people. Each ray of sunlight lingers on their white hair, and parents sit leaning against each other in the middle of the quiet countryside house.

The joy seemed to have ended early when we predicted the departure. The sunlight outside seemed to have become paler. The smoke in the kitchen flickered, mother's shadow stretched out on the wall. Dad counted the long months and years. Looking for a story somewhere to cover up a departure that had been predicted, but every time those stories fell into boredom, they felt lonely wherever they were attached. Dad sat in the house looking out at the sunny yard. Dad's anxious gaze kept sowing sadness in my heart in the long night of being away from home. Leaving behind a sigh that had taken root deep in the soil, Mom prepared a bag of gifts from the countryside for me to bring back to the city. Small bags, big bags, piled up all over the path. But for Mom, it was never enough. You used to grumble when you helped carry things, "Are you going to bring the whole countryside up?" Thinking, if you could do it, Mom would have done it a long time ago.

Sitting absentmindedly in front of the rented room, people who left their hometowns also began to fill the empty rooms. There was no sign of excitement about returning here! It seemed like the atmosphere of their hometown was still filled with them. Why are they acting like soulless people?

I looked up at the street crowded with strangers, sighed and did not answer. It seemed that the heatstroke from my hometown still made me tired. In my hometown, it was sunny now, my parents must be looking out at the sunny yard. The sunny seasons of January were beautiful but strangely sad…

Essays by NGUYEN CHI NGOAN