Wandering back in autumn

A land known as the “fire pan” of the whole country, the cool and drizzly morning days for the people of Dong Xoai, (Dong Nai province) are like a privilege bestowed by heaven and earth. The gentle breezes and the chilly feeling every morning are the favors that nature bestows upon all things after a sunny and windy summer. When the thin, golden sunlight fills the space and each leaf gradually changes color, from yellow to brown, red, then sways from the branches, fluttering in the early wind, we can clearly feel the change of heaven and earth and also in people's hearts. The familiar daily scene on the small alleys suddenly changes. The pace of life seems to slow down, become more thoughtful and calm. That is the time when autumn comes!

When autumn comes, my heart is filled with sweet memories of my childhood. On autumn afternoons, when the sunset falls, the whole space seems to be painted with a deep purple color, making my steps more hesitant. On the flower stalls at the beginning of the street, the Aster flowers with their gentle, calm purple and blue colors. The fragile and pure Chrysanthemum attracts the eyes of anyone passing by. And then, it seems that the brilliant sunlight of summer is accumulated in the Kim Cuong and Dai Doa chrysanthemums to warm the chilly autumn weather and brighten up the corners of space where these flowers exist. Watching the sunset, my heart is filled with indescribable emotions, both happy and sad for no reason. I feel the smallness of humans before the vast universe and realize how precious life is!

The first days of autumn are also the time to prepare for the new school year. I followed my mother to the garden, picking ripe fruits to bring to the market so that she would have money to buy new clothes for my sisters, books, pens and sometimes new sandals. I ran after my mother's fragrant basket of goods, because the two baskets were no different from a small grocery store, with guava, custard apple, chayote, grapefruit. Then there were lemons, star fruit, turmeric, ginger, lemongrass and other things my mother grew in the garden. The ripe custard apples were golden and gave off a fragrant aroma throughout the garden. The scent of guava and custard apples followed my steps to the market. Seeing me longingly looking at the basket of bo quan that a person brought from the highlands to sell, my mother gave me a five-cent coin and told me to buy some. I happily handed the coin to the seller to receive a skewer of about ten bo quan fruits. Seeing me eating with purple water on the corner of my mouth, my mother used her shirt to wipe it off and scolded me lovingly: "Damn it, who ate it? Why are you in such a hurry?"

I cannot remember or tell you everything that existed in our garden, because every few days I saw my mother carrying a basket to the market after an afternoon of harvesting. It is true that in those days, there was no season with as many fruits as autumn! When the whole country was still in difficulty, having to eat cassava mixed with potatoes, being able to freely eat ripe fruits from the garden was no different from the feasts that autumn gave us children.

The full moon of August, for the children, is probably the happiest occasion after the Lunar New Year. The young men and women divided into groups to visit families to collect contributions to organize a Mid-Autumn Festival for the children in the neighborhood. And so, families contributed guava, grapefruit, then sugar cane. Some families roasted peanuts, corn, and even grilled rice paper and brought them to the cooperative yard. We gathered around to watch the men and women stacking each pile of fruit on a copper tray and decorating it with many kinds of flowers. One year, with a small financial support from the cooperative, the youth union bought a few more columns of moon cakes. For me, nothing was more delicious than the piece of cake shared on the Mid-Autumn nights in the communal house yard back then. After a few performances, we cheered and broke the feast and then got absorbed in the folk games, making the whole yard chaotic. My mother sat with the women, chewing betel, talking about children, crops, and fields. The middle-aged people sat on the brick floor around a tiny radio belonging to the team leader. The news had just finished, and the comments on the world and domestic situation were making a ruckus in the corner of the yard. No one noticed the young people gradually separating in pairs from the noisy atmosphere in the communal house yard. The night dew was so wet that my head was wet, but my mother had to call me three or four times before I could leave the communal house yard with regret. And every time, when the children stopped screaming, the adults would leave one by one. Murmurs followed the footsteps of people in all directions. On the small path back home, I followed my mother while looking up at the full autumn moon chasing me.

During the months away from home, drifting along with the flow of life, my heart always remembers my hometown. And in that memory compartment, there is always a compartment to store the sweet, warm autumns of my beloved homeland. And then this morning, the thin drizzle and the rare cold wind of the Southeast region reminded me of the beautiful verses about autumn by poet Huu Thinh: "Suddenly I recognized the scent of guava/Breathing in the cold wind/The mist lingered through the alley/It seemed like autumn had come!"

Spiritual

Source: https://baodongnai.com.vn/van-hoa/202508/lang-dang-thu-ve-82d1e40/