Only mother is spring

But, that place was still quiet, desolate with the cold north wind. Mom still hadn't come back! Around me, across from my house, by the river, the children were playing happily, wearing new clothes and new shoes. As for me, I only had two old clothes and a pair of sandals patched with thread several times. In the kitchen, there was a bowl of dried snakehead fish that I had caught yesterday. Despite the yellow apricot blossoms blooming to welcome the New Year, despite the smell of braised meat, coconut jam, rice paper, despite the "seductive" color of the watermelon that Ngoan next door showed me because his mother had just cut it for him to eat, I still looked longingly toward the end of the river. Yet that place was still deserted and gray with the color of the late afternoon at the end of the year.

I was an illegitimate child, my mother left home with nothing, working hard in every way to raise me and send me to school. We depended on each other to survive. A relative lent her a small boat, and my mother followed some people in the neighborhood and rowed the boat to Dong Thap to smuggle rice. If she could avoid the "checkpoints", she would have something to eat, but if she got caught, she would lose all her capital and profits. And this trip, more than a week had passed (instead of the usual four or five days), and my mother had not returned yet. Before leaving, my mother patted my head: "I pray that this trip goes smoothly. When I get back, I will buy Tet gifts for you, and buy melons and meat to offer to my ancestors." Yet, the red sunset at the end of the river on the night of the 30th of Tet was still empty, my mother's figure was nowhere to be seen.

In the early eighties of the last century, life was very difficult, but Tet was still full of human love and life. The old Tet atmosphere was bustling when entering December. The shortage remained, so every year on one occasion, people spent all their expenses on these days, so that their relatives and children would not be inferior to their neighbors and friends. At the beginning of December, women were busy grinding flour to make rice paper early, grinding by hand (later, there was a flour milling machine, which was more convenient). And, the smell of coconut leaf smoke and coconut firewood to light the pot of water to make rice paper near dawn wafted through the space, evoking the craving for fragrant, crispy coconut rice paper grilled on coconut shell charcoal; or wet rice paper with green beans, coconut flakes dipped in garlic and chili fish sauce, delicious forever in the subconscious.

By the tenth of December, near dawn, we begin to hear the thud-thud sounds of pounding rice paper, the sounds that signal the arrival of spring. The fifteenth of December is considered the beginning of the Tet season when every household and every person goes out to the yard or garden to pick mai leaves. On the twentieth of December, we can see a few strings of Chinese sausages hanging on the side of the house or behind the kitchen; jars of coconut jam, squash jam, star gooseberry jam... drying in front of the house. On the twenty-third of December, when the Kitchen God is sent to heaven, we can consider Tet to have begun. Apricot blossoms and marigolds begin to bloom around the house, along the country roads, spring is pouring into every corner of life. That was how Tet was in the past, but now that industry has ended, rice paper, rice paper, watermelons, and all kinds of jams are available all year round. The feeling of "craving" for Tet is no longer there, only apricot blossoms and marigolds still create a bit of spring atmosphere in the countryside.

Back to the story of the night of the 30th of the Lunar New Year, I sat waiting for my mother, then crept into the house and fell asleep on the bamboo mat without knowing when. In the middle of the night, I was startled by the noise at the wharf, I woke up and opened the door, my voice choked with joy: Mom...! Just a few minutes later, I heard the bustling New Year's Eve. It was a New Year without cakes, candies, meat, fish, new clothes, new sandals, but it was the most memorable New Year in my life.

Source: https://thanhnien.vn/nhan-dam-chi-co-me-la-mua-xuan-thoi-185250111191740484.htm