My father carried a life of wind and rain

My father was born during the time of “bombs and stray bullets”, and returned from the war with wounds. But throughout my childhood, I never saw him show any weakness in front of others.

My family has gone through many stormy years, years of crop failure, storms and floods that blew away the roof. My father was the only one in the house who did not show pessimism, did not complain, did not show sadness on his weather-worn face. He quietly re-tiled the roof, worked hard to clean the house, and rebuilt the barn. He smiled and said: "With hands, you can do many things."

I remember in 2000, my grandfather had a severe stomachache and had to be taken to the district hospital for emergency treatment, otherwise his life would have been in danger. At that time, in my whole village, only Mr. Cu's family in the upper hamlet had a Simson motorbike. My father didn't think much of it, he carried my grandfather on his back and ran quickly on the rocky village road. I followed behind, exhausted.

Mr. Cu saw his father calling at the gate, quickly brought the bike out, his father picked up his wife and hugged her tightly, Mr. Cu got on the bike and quickly drove away. Only I stood there, at Mr. Cu's gate, hesitatingly watching the bike disappear behind the bamboo bushes of the village. I saw red blood stains, not my blood. It was my father's blood, flowing from his bare feet as he ran.

The next day, my father came back, my mother went to take care of her. My father sat quietly on the porch, his feet swollen. I tiptoed closer and asked softly: "Does it hurt, Dad?" My father shook his head and smiled gently: "This wound is nothing, son. Back then, when I was fighting in the Quang Tri battlefield, a bullet grazed my arm, and blood flowed profusely. But luckily, at that time, my comrade, Uncle Bien, was able to help me bandage and treat the wound in time. Otherwise, I wouldn't have this arm now."

Because of the burden of earning a living, my father always left at dawn, when the fog was still thick and people’s faces were unclear, and only returned home at dusk. On his shoulders were his old mother and five young children. Yet time flew by so quickly, his hands were rough from lime, from the sun and wind, and his feet were always cracked, he traveled all over the village, to all the regions near and far. My father built countless houses for countless families. The money soaked in his sweat helped us siblings grow up and mature.

Only later, when I became a parent, did I realize that, throughout my childhood, I was able to live a carefree life because my father had shouldered all the hardships for the family. My father was always a strong soldier, both in wartime and in peacetime. He always hid his sadness behind his strong eyes, so that every time I stumbled, I could run back to my family and feel that life was truly peaceful.

Minh Nguyen

Source: https://baodongnai.com.vn/van-hoa/202509/ba-toi-cong-ca-mot-doi-gio-mua-6cc0a01/