The moon seasons passing through the alley...

Human life passes through the rain, lightning and sea, but deep down still echoes the echoes of the moonlit nights of my childhood. And then every autumn, when the cool breeze hovers outside the door, when the scent of my hometown spreads throughout the garden, I dream of the moon of the Mid-Autumn seasons long gone. Suddenly, I hear the sound of drums stirring the small countryside, making my heart flutter with anticipation...

Illustration: Internet

In those days, the Mid-Autumn Festival of every village child always opened fairy-tale doors, and when entering, the soul would sing with the autumn moonlight and the fragrant wind of the prairie. I often realized that Mid-Autumn Festival had come when the grocery store at the end of the alley hung lanterns. Above the baskets of persimmons and custard apples, silently emitting their fragrance, were paper lanterns shaped like carps, chickens, rabbits, and star lanterns sparkling in many colors. They were hung up eye-catchingly, attracting the eyes of the village children. Every time I passed by the grocery store on my way home from school, I always secretly wished to have one so that I could carry lanterns and enjoy the moonlight with my friends. At night, sleeping in my mother's arms, the lanterns appeared in my dreams, illuminating the autumn sky.

Realizing the wish in my eyes, my father silently whittled bamboo, asked for cellophane paper to make me a five-pointed star lantern. His hands meticulously prepared the bamboo sticks, tied each string, fixed the candlestick, and put cellophane paper into the lantern for me to carry under the moonlight. It was like my father quietly gave me love through the paper kites and the toys he made himself, making my childhood come alive. Receiving the simple star lantern, I, a little child, kissed my father on the forehead, then laughed out loud with joy. My father lit a small candle in the middle, the lantern emitted a shimmering halo, just like it appeared from my dream. I clapped my hands happily, my father looked at me and smiled gently. It seemed that at that moment, I could still see in my father's eyes the gentle stars.

Every Mid-Autumn Festival, the children in my village would receive small gift packages. That afternoon, the village chief walked along the country road and announced it on the loudspeaker, we called each other to gather at the entrance of the village. Each child would receive a package of candy that we always looked forward to every Mid-Autumn Festival. Eagerly waiting for our turn, then happily bowing our heads to thank, we felt like we had received a pure joy, a simple love. The road home was filled with laughter, the gentle breezes playing with our hair, our souls were like the clear blue sky.

We told each other to go home early to bathe and eat dinner, to prepare for the Mid-Autumn Festival. Hearing the sound of drums in the distance, we cheered and ran out to the village road. Following the graceful lion dance team, I held tightly in my hand the star lantern that my father had made. The bustling stream of people followed each other through each alley, the lanterns swaying in the moonlight, gilding the whole countryside. We passed through the rice fields that smelled of the dream of the homeland, past the houses reflecting on the riverbank, gardens filled with the scent of ripe fruit. After a round of the upper and lower villages, we returned when the moon was high, like a silver tray hanging in the sky.

At the end of the day, my mother's voice whispered while I looked out the window, imagining Cuoi sitting under the banyan tree in the moonlight. Sleep came in the warmth of my mother's embrace, peaceful like a lullaby drifting gently in the moonlight...

Time is like a boat anchored in my heart, filled with memories of many peaceful moonlit seasons. Those memories are always enough to soothe a troubled soul. There, there is my father’s tolerant gaze as I joyfully hold the lantern, there is my mother’s hand gently stroking my hair, slowly telling me fairytale moonlit seasons. I call those moonlit seasons the seasons of love, the beloved seasons filled with memories…

Source: https://baodaklak.vn/van-hoa-du-lich-van-hoc-nghe-thuat/van-hoc-nghe-thuat/202510/nhung-mua-trang-qua-ngo-a750f9c/