Flood season in my husband's hometown

Illustration photo (AI)

It rained all night.

Hoa woke up when the sun had just risen, and it was still dark around. She sat there, waiting for him to wake up before getting out of bed. Under her feet, schools of small fish swam around the room, and on the rocks under the cabinet, there were also a few small shrimps leisurely "stroking their whiskers", as if Hoa's presence was not worth their attention.

She had visited her husband's hometown several times, but this was the first time Hoa had experienced the flood season - a season that people from the river country both hate and love. Opening the door, the smell of river water carried by the cold wind hit her face, making her itchy. Hoa did not pay attention to the scene before her eyes, which had changed almost completely. If it were not for the furniture in front of the house as a marker, she would have thought she had drifted away somewhere.

It must have been raining for days, so he could no longer see the vast, blue river under the sky, the vast, poetic rice fields that he loved so dearly. Now there was only water everywhere, just yesterday it was just barely above the waterline, but now the fields were completely submerged.

Her husband's family also got up early, sitting on a black varnished wooden board in the front of the house, huddled together to discuss fish sauce as usual. Seeing her awake, her father-in-law smiled gently, turned to ask her if she wanted to go with her husband to pick sesbania flowers "to show people". Hoa Binh was usually afraid of water, but for some reason she nodded. Probably because she had never seen the water rise before, she excitedly got on the boat. Also going was Nhi - her sister-in-law.

In the dry season, the family’s sampan usually only anchored to the water’s floor, but now the water rose like a good horse unbridled, running everywhere without any hindrance. Following the steady rhythm of the paddle, the sampan took Hoa for a ride on the vast rice fields with the dark red silt like bricks. Sitting at the stern of the sampan, looking out into the distance, Hoa saw clusters of tall trees rising like oases.

Hoa's husband skillfully rowed the boat to the bushes. From afar, this bush looked no different from any other bushes. Up close, one could see that the large, dense branches spread out on the water's surface, filled with green, smooth-skinned, slightly flat round fruits that could be picked with just a hand. Hoa picked them down, leisurely turning the strange fruit in her hand, admiring it. She had never seen this fruit before. The top curled up like a star, the bottom of the tail was pointed like a lizard's tail. Overall, at a glance, it looked like a lantern, and it carried a strange scent that made her crave it.

She took a bite and heard the fragrance. Fragrant but sour and astringent. Hoa grimaced, her mouth twisted, unable to spit it out or swallow it. Her husband laughed and said that the fruit was usually used to make sour soup, braise fish or eat with fish sauce, or to eat raw with spicy salt and chili or shrimp paste mixed with lots of chili.

Amidst the murmuring laughter, the small boat swam out of the mangrove forest, continuing to paddle and surf. After a while, Hoa's husband pulled the boat into a clump of trees with slender trunks and leaves as small as tamarind leaves. Hoa's husband raised his eyebrows at it, smiled and pointed overhead. Hoa looked up and saw small, bright yellow flowers hidden in the foliage. Hoa's eyes lit up, she recognized this flower as a sesbania flower. She had eaten the flower before, but this was the first time she had seen the plant.

After picking a box of flowers, her husband pushed the boat away. Looking back at the still dense yellow spots, Hoa couldn't help but feel regretful and asked why she didn't pick more, but her husband just smiled and said that these flowers don't taste good for long, so she only picked enough to eat, leaving some for those who come after her to pick.

Hoa nodded, seemingly understanding in a moment the "rules" of human relations in this land: Property belongs to the earth and sky, is shared, those who need it should only take enough, leaving some for later, without the "starving" thought of collecting it all. It was because Hoa's husband was nurtured by the people and soil here that Hoa respected, loved, and agreed to marry him.

In the distance, among the shimmering silvery white light of the sun on the water, there was a cluster of many small green leaves spreading out, covering a large area of water. The closer you got, the more you could see the shy purple-white petals with yellow pistils secretly blooming inside. Hoa's husband said, this was a water lily, also known as a ghost water lily, which emerged from the black mud every flood season, stretching its long stem to cover a large area of water. Unlike the water lily at home, the stem was big and the flower was big, the body of the water lily was slender, the flower was small and pretty. Hoa gently picked a flower, her slender fingers lightly gliding over the newly opened petals still covered with night dew, the elegant scent wafted past the tip of her nose, making her heart flutter. In front of the vast sky and water, a small, resilient flower emerging really made people...

- It's delicious!

Hoa was about to say a few poetic words, but before she could finish, her sister-in-law's laughter interrupted her. The little girl turned around and saw the lotus in Hoa's hand, expressing sympathy:

- Sister, do as I say. If you pick it, how will you eat it?

Nhi held up a meter-long lotus stem, shaking it back and forth constantly, as if she thought Hoa didn’t know how to pick it. As soon as she finished speaking, she leaned out, one hand supporting the lotus flower, the other hand reaching deep into the water, and with a slight jerk, the long purple lotus stem was lying neatly on the boat.

Her husband also quickly paddled to stir up a clump of water hyacinth that just happened to float by.

Nhi grabbed the leaves and pulled them into the boat, first picking the flowers, then picking a few more young shoots that had just sprouted, putting them all on the boat, and letting the rest float away with the water. The two brothers did this three or four times, and in no time the remaining basket was full. Hoa picked up a newly bloomed flower and looked closely. The more she looked, the more she understood why poets and musicians sang about the color of water hyacinth flowers all year round. The petals were thin, sad purple, beautiful but filled with sadness.

That night, the rain was pattering on the roof, the water from upstream poured down like a waterfall, the water suddenly rose quickly. Her husband woke Hoa up from her sleep, after they finished cleaning up, her husband told Hoa to lie down and sleep again, but she was so scared, closing her eyes she could only see the scene of the flood water rumbling and sweeping away the house, pigs, chickens, ducks, people and animals. She could not sleep, so she had to open her eyes and wait for the water to rise.

The husband saw Hoa's pale face, both pitiful and amused, he softly comforted her in her ear:

- Oh… The water looks fierce but it is also gentle. It has raised people for generations. My parents have lived here all their lives. How can they just leave?

Hoa sighed, curled up and looked at the white and orange lights flickering on the black sea outside the window. Outside, under the drizzling rain, Hoa could vaguely see many people pulling up to sit on the boat. Were they not avoiding the flood or something? The sound of laughter and shouting to each other echoed endlessly. Lost in her thoughts, Hoa fell asleep without knowing. When she woke up with a start, the sun had risen, casting a red glow on the sea. In the distance, the nets that had been set up at night had been pulled up onto the boat, full of fish and shrimp…/.

Dang Phuc Nhat

Source: https://baolongan.vn/mua-nuoc-noi-que-chong-a202345.html