Cold winter months

That day was extremely hungry and cold, at mealtime, the pot of crab soup was brought up by mother with steam billowing, the aroma spread around the kitchen, entering the nose, into the growling stomach...

Today it rained again, as always, whenever the northeast monsoon blows, it pours down incessantly. The rain is not heavy but it keeps shaking for several days. The land is soggy, the fields and gardens are soggy, the trees are sad and silent, the treetops only flutter when the cool wind blows.

Her feet dug deep into the mud, mother walked steadily despite her stomach growling with hunger... ( Illustration photo from the Internet ).

Cold winter months - my mother often said that to remind her children and grandchildren to rearrange their work when the winter days are coming. They must calculate their business, take care of their food and clothing to fight against the harsh winter days.

My hometown was very difficult in those days. The roads were muddy after days of continuous rain. Early in the morning, my mother wrapped a scarf around her waist, carried a plow on her shoulder, and led the buffalo by the hand. In her pocket was a bag of rice husks and pieces of dried areca nut that she had saved from the previous year. The field was deep and the water was cold. The buffalo was afraid to take its first steps down to the edge of the field. Its whole body was curled up, its thin fur stood up, and the wind blew fiercely, accompanied by rain, hitting both the buffalo and the person, making them numb.

Mother waved her torn raincoat in several places, the wind kept blowing it behind the furrows. Her feet dug deep into the mud, Mother walked hard despite her stomach growling with hunger.

The buffalo walked slowly, stretching its neck to one side to nibble on a clump of young grass near the bank. Mother held the plow with one hand, stretched out the other, and bent down to catch a crab that had emerged from the soil. After plowing, the basket was almost full of crabs. On the way home, Mother stopped by the potato field, so that day we had another delicious crab and sweet potato soup.

The taste of my mother's bowl of crab soup from the past is still unforgettable... ( Illustration photo from the Internet ).

Nowadays, I still occasionally cook field crab soup, the crabs are put in a mortar and ground to extract the water to cook. Field crab soup is still a favorite dish of my whole family, but for me, the taste of my mother's field crab soup in the past is still unforgettable. Even though the crab was only cut in half and cooked with sweet potato leaves, the spices were just right, but it was still delicious. That day, I was extremely hungry and cold, at mealtime, the pot of field crab soup was brought up by my mother, steaming, the aroma wafting around the kitchen, rushing into my nose, into my rumbling stomach. My childhood grew up from seasons of sweet potato leaves soup cooked with field crabs like that.

Nowadays, people in my hometown seem to raise buffaloes and cows only for meat. Because plowing has been replaced by modern machines. Life has changed, labor has been improved, life everywhere is prosperous and happy. Unlike the old days, the countryside fields are plowed and harrowed all year round but still cannot overcome poverty and hardship.

Winter has come back cold, raining for days on end, the land is soggy, trees are bare because of frost. Luckily the country roads from the village to the rice fields have been concreted. The rain and wind still rotate seasonally following the rhythm of the earth and sky. People now raise and feed crabs with industrial feed, not just natural feed like before.

The cold winter months with their joys and sorrows and the hardships of day and night... ( Illustration photo from the Internet ).

My mother lived for nearly a hundred years in the village fields. Now there is no longer the poverty and hunger of the past, but her hands tremble every time she tells her children and grandchildren about the hardships of the past. She experienced nearly a hundred “cold winters” with joys and sorrows and hardships day and night. She knew how to be frugal and endure; she knew how to suffer and understand the meaning of life. She knew how to rely on the land, the seasons to survive through hardships.

I grew up in the countryside and then left to find a new life, witnessing the hardships of my childhood and appreciating the value of life today. The rain has been persistent for the past few days without stopping. The north wind has returned, cold and bitter. A feeling of nostalgia suddenly arose in me. I miss my mother, my hometown, the bowl of sweet potato soup that has passed away. I miss it so much, I miss the countryside that has raised me until now.

The cold winter months - still cold in me.

Nguyen Doan Viet

Source: https://baohatinh.vn/van-hoc/mua-dong-thang-gia/259200.htm