Life is always different when the wind blows. Who would have thought that the wind could make such a difference?
Early in the morning, when going to the market, the vendors were wearing long-sleeved shirts, sighing that the cool breeze had arrived. In the tea shop, each cup of jackfruit seeds fell into the palm of the hand, warm, emitting a thin smoke, no longer shaking hands to drink iced tea. The cool breeze rushed in, changing the atmosphere of each space, each scene that seemed familiar.
“Miss! Buy some eggplant, this is a great change of pace for stewing”; “The grilled mackerel is so delicious today, would you like to take some pieces to make tomato sauce?”; “The weather is cool, I dug up some bamboo shoots out of season, would you like to make some duck to cook with?”… The market is like a country market. People from everywhere come here… to hustle to make a living. Chicken, duck, vegetables, melons, wine, tea… everything.
Suddenly the cold wind makes you restless? Of course not. Those who are a little old, with gray hair on their heads, their minds are also dizzy, their bones feel like they are being gnawed by worms. Then their sleep at night is also restless and full of dreams. The cold wind outside seems to penetrate deep into every cell, every hair root.
There is always a different life when the cool breeze blows. Who would believe that the winds can create such an unusual thing? Walking along the river and lake, the wind is stirring, blowing each gust, pushing the waves to rise strongly. Wave after wave chases each other, surrounds each other, connecting all the endless journeys with the sky, clouds and water. The small lake will be somewhat quiet, each green bamboo bush, swaying on the waves, seems to shrink more. In the distance, there is the sound of birds chirping anxiously.
Again, I was absent-minded, imagining and remembering my childhood. On cool days, my grandmother would slowly chew betel, not on the porch but sitting by the window that opened slightly to the green garden. The farming work was done, my mother was busy in the kitchen taking out sticky rice flour and molasses to cook a pot of banh troi. While kneading the dough, she told her son to go down to the corner of the garden to dig up a small branch of ginger to make the rustic cake more fragrant.
My father often went to the riverbank, used a loudspeaker to call his friends. His comrades from the army were sitting on a small boat, paddling to chase fish into the net. The boat slowly drifted from a distance towards my father. He called his comrades to come up and drink a pot of good tea, saving it for a cold windy day to drink.
When he got to shore, he would definitely pick up the fresh fish that were still wriggling in the water from the boat's hold and put them in a basket and bring them straight to my kitchen. We would gather around to admire and discuss them excitedly.
The weather changed, the river surface had the most fish with round bodies like chopsticks, about a span long, reddish brown the color of areca roots. Just by looking at it, my mother would know immediately what to cook. Usually, with that kind of fish, the children in the house would continue to be ordered to go down to the corner of the garden, where the ginger had just been dug up, pick many ginger leaves, turmeric leaves, and even crawl into the bushes to pick young buds and young leaves for mother to line the bottom of the pot and cover the pot of braised fish. When the weather changed, eating a bowl of white rice with braised fish in pickled cucumber juice and herbs from the garden was irresistibly delicious.
Suddenly the cold wind blew in. Suddenly, I was busy and bustling, still yearning and missing. And then suddenly I realized that life needs slow moments, stretching out like that, so that a little leisurely thinking will soothe my heart. The kitchen needs to be a little warmer. People need to speak and walk a little more leisurely. Memories that I thought had fallen asleep suddenly woke up this morning. I felt more love, more affection, and peace opened up…
LU MAI