Actually, Mr. Song had been awake for a long time. At the age of over sixty, few people could sleep straight through from dusk till dawn. Perhaps he was awakened by the sound of a crowing. Or perhaps the sound of raindrops pattering on the tin roof had woken an old man. He lay still, clearly feeling the coldness of this rain.
His room was next to the small kitchen. Many years ago, he always felt uncomfortable lying here and having to listen to the loud noises coming in. Every morning at 5am, his wife would wake up, clattering to boil water, stir-fry rice, cook porridge. The sound of slippers, brooms, dishes, chopsticks, pots and pans hitting each other. But since his wife passed away, the kitchen became quiet until 6:15am. The alarm clock rang loudly throughout the house. The alarm clocks of his son, daughter-in-law, and all the phones in the house were set to ring. Then one called the other, urging them on. One turned on the stove to quickly cook noodles, another dragged the child to brush his teeth and wash his face. After about half an hour of noise, the children left one by one. The sound of "Sir, I'm going to school" also flew along with the hurried footsteps of the grandson. The house became quiet. The breakfast that his daughter-in-law had hastily made and covered the table for him must have been cold. But actually he was old, he could barely eat or drink. While he was thinking, he heard his phone vibrate, without even opening it he knew it was his childhood friend calling.
- How are your legs today? I heard from the weather forecast that it's raining a lot in my hometown. They must be more painful than usual, right?
- The incision has not healed yet, it is hard to avoid pain. I plan to lie down for a while, then when the sun comes up I can sit up and walk around gently.
- You try to do physical therapy, I will definitely be able to walk again in about a month. The two old friends wandered around the village. But right now, the villagers are probably planting rice in the fields, right?
- Yes, I heard my grandson say that people are planting green rice.
already
- How old is your grandson?
- Eight years old.
- I remember when we were his age, we rode buffaloes in the fields, climbed trees to steal bird eggs. How fast, a lifetime passes...
Mr. Song struggled to get up, reached for the walker that his son had placed neatly at the foot of the bed. He opened the door and looked out into the rain. The wind blew through the banana leaves that were shaking violently in the garden. The mustard greens next to the fence were blooming bright yellow but were also wilting from the rain that had fallen all night. He looked toward the large field in front of his house, which had now become a new urban area with infrastructure under construction. Life was like that. There were always changes. But he did not tell his friend in a hurry because he was afraid that he would be sad. Because Mr. Song knew that after decades of living abroad, his friend still yearned for his homeland in his memories. His friend held on to those old memories to prepare for a return trip at the end of his life.
Mr. Song pushed his cart around for a while then sat down on a stone bench at the entrance of the alley. Everyone who passed by stopped to ask if his leg was better yet. Did the artificial joint replacement surgery cost a lot of money? One person left and another came. Stories from the village, old and young, people who had gone to the West, people who had just applied to join the army. The story of Mr. Sau from the neighboring village following his son to the city to enjoy his old age but refused to sell his land and house. Even though the house was empty and his children were busy and rarely came back, the neighbors urged him to sell it when the land was worth more, but he insisted: "Leave it there for our ancestors to guide us, so that our children and grandchildren will have a place to return to." There was also the story of Mrs. Vinh from the neighboring village. It was said that she went to the city to live with her son for three months and then returned. She said to everyone she met: "There is nothing missing there except my hometown. I miss my neighbors, even the flowers and blades of grass. Everything I eat makes me feel strange." Villagers never stop talking about their hometown.
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Time passed quickly, the rice in the fields surrounding the new urban area had also taken root, green and fresh. Mr. Song's feet also walked lightly. During meals, he occasionally remembered and asked his children and grandchildren what day it was. He told his daughter-in-law to remember to stop by the market to buy some sweet mustard greens when she got home from work tomorrow. Actually, the garden had no shortage of vegetables, all of which were the types his friend liked. How could he not like them, they were associated with memories of the years when he only had cassava mixed with rice and wild vegetable soup cooked with local crab and shrimp. He did not know where his friend had been, what delicacies he had eaten, or how rich and abundant his life was. But he knew what his friend missed during the years away from home. There was no shortage of water spinach, jute, amaranth, and Malabar spinach. When the rain stopped, he prepared the soil and planted some more mustard greens, so that when his friend returned, he would have plenty of clean vegetables to eat.
Before his friend returned, he saw his daughter-in-law take out the bedding that had been soaked and washed to make it fragrant. The room that had been empty for many years was cleaned, with a new mat and new sheets and pillows. Mr. Huan, Mr. Song's son, normally did not care about anything around him, but this time he knew to tell his wife to save some good chickens and not sell them all. One day, he blurted out: "I don't know where to find some crabs to cook soup", but the next day, he saw his son bring home several kilos of crabs, ground them, filtered them, and put them in small bags in the freezer, saying: "Just take them out and defrost them when you eat them". He must be old and easily moved, when he touched the bedding that smelled of warm sunshine, his nose stung. It had been a long time since his wife passed away that he had found a little bit of warm joy like a bud sprouting on a rough, silver tree trunk. His old friend's video calls became more frequent. Even though he no longer had any blood relatives left in his homeland, his relatives had all scattered and the land his ancestors had left him had long since been sold, he was still eager to return and breathe in the river breezes with the rich scent of alluvium. To return and immerse himself in the rain and warm sunshine of the changing seasons.
You came back just in time for the sunset. The two old friends hugged each other, happy and sad. The river wind blew your white beard and hair, reminding you of all sorts of things. Every afternoon, we used to go swimming together on this river. Once, we swam to the other side and fell asleep in the reed bushes, not hearing our mother calling out to us with a whip on this side. Do you know? Many nights while I was away from home, I dreamed of rows of yellow mustard flowers sparkling all over the river. I have walked along many large rivers in the world . There are rivers covered in white snow in winter. There are rivers reflecting the autumn leaves of the forests. There are rivers with a deep green color, running through the foot of the mountain like a silk strip. But no river is as beautiful as the river of my childhood.
If the grandson had not called out, the two old friends would have stood on the dike until they were lost in the darkness. The little boy was fascinated by the gifts his friend had brought back from a faraway land. The little boy put a sweet chocolate in his mouth, lying there looking at the huge puzzle. But his eyes stopped at the white coral tree.
- Was it really brought back from the sea, sir?
- Of course. His friend was a great diver. Before he died, he gave me this gift. Now he's giving it to you.
- Yes, but why did you give me such a precious gift?
- Because I'm old, now when I look at the coral tree I can't see the ocean in front of me. But you are different. Look at the coral tree, and hear the sound of waves whispering in your ears.
The room prepared for his friend was redundant. His friend said he had come here to chat, having slept many lonely nights over there. That night, his grandson asked to sleep together, sandwiched between the two men. He asked his grandfather's friend to tell him all sorts of stories about the distant land, mysterious stories that the little boy believed were true. Only when the child fell asleep did the two old friends have time to confide in each other. But strangely enough, they did not say much to each other, just lying still listening to the sound of spring rain falling outside the window. Before falling asleep, the old friend said to him:
- When I was young, I thought that the weather was the same everywhere. But as I got older, I realized that the weather in my hometown is always different. Today, standing in the middle of my hometown, I miss it.
Mr. Song believes that despite many worries, his friend will sleep well tonight...
Source: https://baocantho.com.vn/ban-gia--a188183.html
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