Crossing the Hau River in the afternoon, I was moved to realize that the flood season was coming to the delta plain. A few branches of water hyacinth followed the water from upstream, covering the reddish-brown patches of alluvium with green. When we were young, we were familiar with the flood season. In our children’s minds, the flood season was like a friend, coming naturally, after a few months of soaking the fields, it would recede.
In the 90s of the last century, the flood season came and went at an almost fixed time. Every year on the 5th day of the 5th lunar month, my hometown people often called it the time when the “water turned” from clear to muddy. At that time, every family made banh xeo to celebrate the “half-year” Tet. The villagers also started to remember the fishing gear left in the kitchen or in the backyard, because the fish season was approaching.
My father also hurriedly went to the garden to choose some old bamboo trees with big trunks to cut down. He said that we should cut them in advance so that when we needed to build a bridge, we could use them right away. Because my house was far out in the fields, nearly a hundred meters from the main road, we needed a bamboo bridge to move around. At that time, almost every house in that poor neighborhood had to rely on a bamboo bridge to get in and out conveniently. After cutting the bamboo, my father took out the old fishing net and patched up any torn spots. During the months when the fields were flooded, the fishing net was the family's livelihood tool...
In the sixth lunar month, water from somewhere flooded the fields, leaving white patches in the far fields. At that time, every family that still had crops would hurry to finish harvesting to “escape the flood”. My father also took the sampan down to the village to seal it with plastic, preparing it as a means of fishing for the next few months of drifting. To my father, the sampan was a memory left by my great-grandfather, so he had to preserve it carefully.
“In July, the water jumped over the banks.” Several species of linh fish, snakehead fish, and perch appeared at the market. Mom bought some traps for my brothers and I to catch butterfly snakehead fish and striped snakehead fish. At this time, the two crew-cut kids began their “livelihood”. Unfortunately, the fish caught every day were only enough to cook, but they were bitten by fire ants and had scabies...
Then, in the eighth lunar month, the water rose very quickly. In the morning, the water was still as high as the waists of the children. By noon, the water was up to their chests. My father had also built a bamboo bridge to make a path. After a few days, the bridge was raised a few inches higher. My brothers and I also had a place to play. The banana trees were located on the edge of the hill, and if the water reached our feet, they would die. We lowered them down to make rafts. On the rafts, we celebrated the Mid-Autumn Festival with homemade lanterns made from cans.
The August tide was also the time when many fish ran. My father went fishing for fish. Conveniently, he picked some water spinach shoots that were floating on the water's surface, and picked some clusters of wild water mimosa flowers for my mother to cook sour soup. The simple dinner tray under the simple thatched roof warmed our souls when we were children. At that time, we thought everything was immutable, not knowing that time would never come back...
Gradually, we grew up and were busy searching for the future. The old corner of our hometown also faded into the past. The poor hamlet with more than a dozen houses standing in the middle of the fields was no longer there, giving way to a new, spacious residential area. Then the flood season did not return. Just like my mother was no longer busy with the simple kitchen, preparing dinner that year!
Until now, I still often absentmindedly search for the flood season in the upstream area. Every time I return to the flood season, the images of the old days seem to come back to life. There, faintly, the crisp laughter of children bathing in the fields at noon. There, there is also the image of my brothers and I carrying buckets to visit the fishing nets every morning and every afternoon...
THANH TIEN
Source: https://baoangiang.com.vn/don-lu--a423238.html
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