Old guitar

The sad sound of the guitar in the cramped rented room, the notes like the lament of a lost soul.

Illustration photo (AI)

The sad sound of the guitar in the cramped rented room, the notes like the wail of a lost soul. Ms. Hoa stood at the doorway, holding a wet clothesline, looking at the thin back of her husband bending over the old guitar. Three years. Three years since Mr. Tuan bought that guitar, her family life seemed to have fallen into a spiral with no way out.

"Even though life is cruel, I still dream of a future day..." - his voice echoed in the small, warm and emotional space. She used to be fascinated by this voice, used to sit and listen to him sing all night long in the early days of their love. But now, every time she heard him sing, her heart ached as if someone was squeezing it. Because she knew, after this singing hour, he would rush to the faraway fair stages.

On their wedding day, Mr. Tuan worked hard as a construction worker, his beautiful voice was just for fun. He came home with his clothes stained with lime, washed his hands clean, then hugged his guitar and sang his wife folk songs from his hometown. "You sing very well!" - she often complimented sincerely.

Unexpectedly, those compliments gradually became a poison that slowly corroded his reason. When Minh was born, instead of working harder to raise his child, he began to have strange ideas. "I will be famous" - he told her in the evenings when the child was asleep, "I feel I have talent, I just need the opportunity".

From there, he began his crazy journey: chasing after distant competitions, fair stages, leaving her alone with the small child. She had to quit her job at the store to sell goods on the street. Her once soft hands were now calloused, her skin was darkened by the sun and wind, her youth gradually passed away along with her broken dreams.

Minh's cry from the corner of the room startled her and she turned around. Minh was sitting on an old mat, his face dirty, tears streaming down his face. "Mommy, I'm hungry. Where's daddy?" - Minh's voice was filled with an indescribable sadness - the sadness of a child accustomed to deprivation.

"Dad is going to work, honey!" she lied, her heart was cut like a knife. Today, she sold twenty thousand from the fruit and vegetable cart. As for Tuan, he had been heading towards the district market since morning, hearing that there was a folk song competition. As for Tuan, he had been heading towards the district market since morning, hearing that there was a folk song competition.

In the first months after Minh was born, he still had some reason. But then the idea of ​​becoming a famous singer began to haunt him. He started quitting his job to sing in small tea rooms and drinking places, earning a few pennies and thinking he had entered the path of art. He told his wife one evening when he returned from a drinking place: "Today a customer complimented me on my singing. He told me I should enter a contest, I will definitely become famous."

She looked at him with a pang in her heart. He believed the compliments from a drunk man in a bar as if they were a hope. "Honey, be realistic. We have a small child and need money..."

"You don't believe me?" he interrupted, his eyes slightly hurt. "I'm really talented. I just need a chance."

She still remembers the morning he went to the provincial competition. Minh had a high fever, and she carried him to the hospital alone. She couldn't reach him by phone, and he came home drunk in the late afternoon: "I lost. The judges probably don't understand the music." Looking at him, she was both angry and sorry.

Every morning, she woke up at five o'clock to prepare the goods. On hot sunny days, she wore a faded conical hat, sweating profusely. On rainy days, she covered the cart with a green tarpaulin, her clothes soaked, and she came home shivering from the cold. At night, lying on the old wooden bed, listening to him breathing evenly beside her after a day of "singing competitions", she wondered if this life had any meaning left.

That September, the teacher called her: "Ms. Hoa! You must come see Minh perform. Your child is very talented!". She wanted to refuse because she was busy, but the teacher's voice was too enthusiastic: "Your child sings so well that the teacher is surprised. You must come!".

In the small hall, the yellow light shone down on the rows of old wooden chairs. When Minh stepped onto the stage in a white shirt and black pants, she felt her heart pounding. Then when he started singing, she felt like she was struck by lightning:

"Even though life is cruel/ I still dream of a future day...".

Minh's voice was clear as a stream but had a familiar warm tone. She recognized it immediately - it was Tuan's voice, but much clearer and sweeter. The whole hall froze, some people wiped away tears.

She sat there feeling like her world was collapsing. Her son was a good singer, better than his father. But she was more afraid than happy. Afraid that Minh would be like his father, daydreaming, neglecting real life to chase after illusions.

- Mom, do I sing well? - Minh asked when he got home, his eyes shining like two stars.

- Where did you learn to sing?

- I just learned from listening to you sing. You taught me that. You said I have a voice like you, and will become famous like you dreamed.

She sat still for a long time. It turned out that while she was out selling goods, Mr. Tuan had secretly passed on his unrealistic dreams to his son.

That evening, when Tuan came home late with his usual disappointed look - he had not been chosen once again. She sat waiting for him at the dining table. The flickering oil lamp cast their shadows on the wall.

- Did you teach your child to sing? - she asked directly. He was surprised:

- Yes! What's up?

- I performed at school today. I sang very well.

His eyes suddenly lit up:

- Really? Our child is as talented as his father! See, I said I was talented!

"Don't teach him anymore," she said, her voice soft but resolute as steel.

- Why? My child is talented.

She stood up and went to the window to look out into the small yard.

- Look at yourself. What can you sing? Your family is so poor, do you want your child to be like you?

Her words were like a slap in the face to him. He stood still in the darkness for a long time then quietly went into the inner room.

From then on, the atmosphere in the house became heavy. He sang less, talked less, but she knew he had not given up. Minh became quieter. He no longer sang, no longer cheerful like before.

- Mom, why don't you let me sing? - Minh asked one night.

- You should study.

- But I love singing, Mom. I want to become a singer like Dad dreamed.

She put down her bowl of rice and looked at her son with a pained look. He understood his father's dream and began to cherish the same hopes as Tuan did back then.

Then one day, an accident happened. Anh Tuan fell off his bike on the way back from a competition in another province. He broke his leg and suffered a few minor injuries, and had to stay in the hospital for a while. Those sleepless nights by his bedside, watching him lie motionless with his leg in a cast, she felt like a woman aging prematurely.

- Do you regret it? - she asked late one night.

He looked up at the ceiling:

- I don't know. I just know I can't live without a dream.

- What about your wife and children?

- I... I'm sorry!

For the first time in years, he apologized to her. But she knew it wasn't true remorse.

When he returned from the hospital, there were small changes. He looked for a part-time job but his mind was still wandering. Minh was still quiet and did not sing, but she saw the longing in his eyes every time he heard music.

One evening, she decided to have a frank talk. The couple sat across from each other in the dim light, the distance between them like a chasm.

- Do you really love me?

- Why do you ask?

- If you really love me, you won't let me suffer like this.

He was silent.

- I know you have talent. I want you to succeed.

- How to succeed? Your way?

She looked straight into her husband's eyes:

- If you really want your child to be happy, you have to change. Not give up on your dream completely, but find the right way to make it come true.

- I will try to earn more money. You teach your child to sing but you have to be serious and methodical. You have to learn about real music and how to train children.

His eyes lit up.

- You... you agree to let your child learn music?

- I agree, but you have to become a real father and husband.

His tears flowed in the darkness: "I promise!".

Family life began to change. Mr. Tuan woke up early with his wife to prepare goods, and in the afternoon he taught his children to sing. He bought books on music and learned about scientific training methods. She switched to selling bread and lunch boxes, and her income increased significantly.

Minh was like reborn. He sang again and improved very quickly under his father's strict guidance. He didn't have to sing randomly like before but was taught each song and each technique.

Two years later, Minh participated in a provincial children's singing contest and won first prize. Standing on a large stage with lights shining down, holding a golden trophy, he said into the microphone: "Thank you, Mom and Dad. Dad taught me how to sing properly, Mom sacrificed everything for me to pursue my dream."

Ms. Hoa sat in the stands, tears streaming down her tired face. Next to her, Mr. Tuan was also crying - but they were tears of happiness. The dream he had never been able to fulfill was now becoming a reality through his child.

Back home, the family of three sat around a simple meal. She looked at her husband and children, her heart filled with happiness. She had learned a new way of loving - not to forbid or oppose dreams, but to make dreams come true in a wiser way. Sometimes, the dreams of this generation do not come true, but can be continued and completed by the next generation./.

Tang Hoang Phi

Source: https://baolongan.vn/cay-dan-cu-a203185.html