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Missing winter rain

MAI HOANG December 18, 2024 11:00

The winter rain brought with it many beautiful memories, soaked in the aroma of sweet potatoes and grilled cassava. It is hard to forget that rainy winter afternoon.

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A drizzling winter afternoon, the cold seeps into the skin.

“Do you remember those winter rains…”. Received your message on a drizzly winter afternoon. The cold seeped into my skin, making me feel nostalgic for the old days. Those winter rains in my hometown…

Winter rains come, the sun hides somewhere. Winter comes with silver clouds. The sky is heavy with sadness. My mother said, everything in this world has its own story, its own sadness.

So, winter rain is like the tears of the winter sky, full of thoughts. I huddled in my maroon sweater, hands deep in my pockets, thinking about the long way to school.

And those were also the most difficult days of going to school for the poor students. Back then, no one had a bicycle, so they had to walk to school. The poor families did not have enough warm clothes, and the thin makeshift raincoats were not enough to protect them from the cold winter rain.

We often waited for each other at a certain meeting point to go. The way to school was more fun. It was raining, the road was slippery as if it was greased. Everyone had to take off their sandals, firmly grip the tips of their ten toes on the ground, feel each step, afraid of falling. Remembering those difficult times, I feel so much love for our innocent, pure, close and close friendship at the beginning.

By the time I got to school and washed my feet, they were red and swollen from the cold. On rainy winter days like this, teachers often waited for their students by a warm fire. Teachers and students sat around the fire. Students raised their red, bruised hands, whining that they were cold, hoping that the rain would stop tomorrow and the sky would clear up. At those times, I wanted to sit in front of the fire for a long time, to feel my skin warm up, to see my friends' smiles.

The winter rain still brings with it many beautiful memories, imbued with the fragrant aroma of roasted sweet potatoes and cassava. It is hard to forget those rainy winter afternoons. Also by the homemade fire, in a makeshift hut, poor children sat roasting sweet potatoes and cassava. Each sweet potato and cassava were buried in the hot coals with the eagerness and craving of childhood. I cannot fully describe the flavor of that priceless gift. I only know that every time I recall it, the image of sweet, crumbly cassava and the fragrant aroma of the countryside lingers forever.

“Do you remember that time when we…?” My heart sobbed softly as I reread your messages. Years passed, my memories seemed to sleep in oblivion, but the winter rain once again came back to remind me of the lingering love.

MAI HOANG
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Missing winter rain