Looking for the reed seasons

At that time, my hometown was very poor, everything was wild, there were not many high-rise buildings like now, everywhere you looked you could see the border, fields and fields with trees and wild grass. My second brother stood in the middle of the yard and pointed into the distance: Look, the reed season is coming, they bloom white all over the river bank, so beautiful. Immediately after that, the two brothers invited each other to go to the river bank to pick reed flowers to play with.

I remember that was when the cool breezes began to touch the alley, winter also slowly came with the cool air, that was when the reeds began to grow tall with slender bodies. Just a few days later, at the top of the heads were attached tiny ivory white flowers. They did not point high to the sky but drooped down, every time the wind blew, they swayed back and forth, creating a rare softness. It was because of that softness that caught the "green eyes" of the children in our hometown.

And my deprived childhood suddenly awakened when I saw myself as a child on the riverbank, wading into the reed bushes to pick the biggest and most blooming reed branches. When I was nine or ten, the internet had not yet appeared, electricity had just begun, so there were not many modern, fun games like today. Herding buffaloes, chopping wood, whenever there was a fun game, a beautiful tree that caught my eye, I would come up with an idea to play. We followed the example of Dinh Bo Linh, using reed flags as guns and sticks to play a mock battle. We were also full of enthusiasm, divided into two teams, each holding a reed flag waving back and forth, laughter resounding throughout the countryside.

In my subconscious, the reed flowers have a gentle scent, which I think only I can feel, because my friends around me think that reed flowers have no scent. I still remember clearly the times I weaved through the bushes to pick the reed flowers, when the reed flowers touched my nose, my sense of smell was awakened by a gentle scent. That scent seemed to contain the scent of the fields and wind, the scent of the rising river water, the scent of the dew drops that had not yet evaporated and the scent of my beloved homeland. And the times after playing the mock battle, I lay on the grass, still holding the reed flowers in my hand, looking up at the sky through the reed flowers like a slender bridge of mist and smoke, the scent of the reed flowers still gently caressed and embraced me.

After days of running around, bored with the mock battle, my mother and I busily went to cut reeds to make pillows. I remember those sleepless afternoons, under the porch full of fragrant golden sunshine, two pairs of diligent hands separating each tiny reed and putting it into a tray. Gradually, we created a lovely, soft pillow. My mother gave me the first reed pillow to hug and rest my head on. I gently hugged the pillow to my heart, holding in my heart all the love, the immense motherly love through many seasons of blooming reeds, and learned to cherish each small memory to nurture my soul to slowly grow with many beautiful ideas.

Many years have passed, but every time the cold air rushes in, when I close my eyes, I am lost in my old hometown, where the shore has white-blossoming reeds filled with sweet, loving memories with my friends. I feel like I am resting my head on the soft reed pillows that my mother and I used to carefully pick and put into pillowcases. On the emotional land of my heart, I am constantly searching for the reed flower season of my childhood, the gentle early winter seasons that have since when tightly held in my heart a part of my beloved life!

Mai Hoang

Source: https://baodongnai.com.vn/van-hoa/202510/di-tim-nhung-mua-lau-3510f00/