The Joy of Independence

Illustration photo (AI)

- It's late, mom. Let's go to sleep!

Song's voice echoed clearly from the thatched house, but Mom didn't answer, just kept quiet as if she hadn't heard. Mom still sat, as if waiting for something. In the dim darkness, the late night lights were reflected on the river, insects chirped, mosquitoes began to buzz in her ears, Mom raised her bony hand, looking at the endless space. Then Mom smiled to herself. The river surface was shimmering, lights were flickering in the distance. The sound of the engine was humming closer. It seemed that tonight, Uncle Toan was going to cast the net again. Knowing that Song's Mom would be sitting there, he slowed down, turning the wheel so that the engine wouldn't hit Mom's legs - a familiar thing every time he passed this part of the river. Every time like that, he threw Mom a bag of fruit or a piece of food, asking her to bring it back to Song, afraid that poor guy would be hungry.

Song and his mother had been living precariously in the thatched house for six or seven years, when Song was just a baby, and then, for some reason, they moved here together. Every day, the mother waded across the river to find fish and shrimp to sell at the market to earn some money to buy rice. On days when there was fish, Song was full, but on days when there wasn’t, the mother and son slept soundly in the house floating on the water, hungry. Many times he wanted to ask his mother about his origins, but looking at her smoky eyes, as if someone had locked up endless sadness in her heart, Song didn’t dare say a word. Sometimes, when he was bored at the river, he would ask his mother’s permission to go ashore to play with some of the children in the neighborhood by the river. Some were the same age as Song, some were younger, they sat together on the third row of banyan trees that had branches that had fallen to the bank. The whole group shouted until their voices were hoarse, teasing each other, echoing throughout the river.

These days, Be hamlet becomes more bustling, people come and go busily. Song saw some neighbors buying yellow and red paint to paint the national flag on the roof. I heard that this year marks the 80th anniversary of the National Day of the Socialist Republic of Vietnam, the day the country escaped from slavery, enjoying freedom and independence thanks to the resilience, courage and strategy of our army and people, under the talented leadership of President Ho. Song often heard that information on the old radio that her mother kept right at the bedside, every night after dinner, Song sat down to search for the signal so that both mother and son could listen to the news.

For years up here, there was no small television. The few days when Song was able to go out to sell fish, she saw the road to the village filled with flags and flowers. She heard that this year, her people were celebrating “Independence Day” very big! She saw electricians busily completing the last sections of the power lines connecting to the residential areas in the distance. Youth union members and young people in green shirts were preparing songs at the red address of her commune. Farmers were busy in the fields, everything seemed to be more bustling and exciting. Song wanted to join in the jubilant atmosphere, as if she were also a part of this important event.

In addition to helping his mother sell fish, he would sneak into singing practice to listen to the heroic national melodies played by his brothers and sisters on portable speakers. He dragged along a few friends along the riverbank, standing at the foot of the commune's victory monument to watch the performance practice.

That day, while he was sleeping, he saw his mother fumbling around the back door, whispering something to someone. He opened his eyes slightly, trying to listen in but couldn't hear anything. After a while, he saw his mother come in, reach for the hat on the rack, quickly put it on, then his mother went up the bank, and walked into the village. Probably thinking that Song was sleeping, his mother didn't say anything to him. He was secretly happy, waiting for his mother to leave the door, he jumped up, quickly crawled out the back, raised his hand and whistled to call his friends. Today, he had a new task, to paint the national flag on the corrugated iron roof to celebrate Independence Day. The day before yesterday, on the raft, Uncle Khanh - the Head of the area, said he had gathered a few kids to come and let him guide them in painting the flag. The great day of the country was coming, he and the brothers in the raft hamlet needed to do something meaningful to celebrate.

Over the past few days, the wind has been blowing proud melodies on the commune loudspeakers. From childhood to adulthood, Song has never seen a big music concert or heard words like “National Concert”. He longs for the day he can sit in a car or join the crowd to shout “Vietnam”. At that time, he will surely tremble with joy, proudly holding the national flag in his hand. He wants to show off to his mother that these past few days he has volunteered to paint decorative flags in preparation for the “National Reunification Day”. But every time he sees his mother’s tearful gaze in the dim light, he feels scared. It’s not that he is afraid of being beaten or scolded, but he is afraid that his mother will prolong that sadness throughout the days they are together. On the occasion of independence and freedom, how could his mother not be happy? So, he sneaked around during the remaining summer days, waiting until the yellowed corrugated iron sheets in the village of Be were covered with the red and yellow colors of the national flag, then he would come home to show his mother so that they could both be happy together.

These days, Mom is also excited, half happy, half worried. I heard that in the old hometown, people found many martyrs' remains after two resistance wars against French colonialism and American imperialism. Mom vaguely thought about her father, the man who went to fight and then disappeared in another country, she never had a chance to sit down and call out "Dad!". When the country was unified, the country was reunited, Mom wanted to go find her relatives, but Song's grandmother stopped her. Mother and son struggled in the pouring rain of August. Grandma had to confess that Mom was only an illegitimate child. During the fierce years of war and bombs, when Grandma was a young volunteer digging roads for the army, afraid of bombs plowing and bullets, her youth passed away in the years of war and bullets without being able to return to her hometown, so she earnestly asked for a child to be her companion.

It was an autumn night on the Central Highlands battlefield, when our army’s “diversionary” campaign was quietly taking place, that fierce battlefield was immersed in tension for many nights. No one thought that during that time, a life would begin to be sown in the young volunteer. Everything was urgent, quick and hurried, as if in the midst of the fierce battle, people were still afraid of the day of returning alone, without the sound of children. And Song’s mother was born after the great Spring victory.

Every time she crept to the garden, opened her lips, and mumbled words to her father in a faraway place, she received an evasive look from her grandmother. Those trivial memories of her childhood always troubled her. Until the day when Song herself cried out at birth without the presence of a pillar man. The night tore apart the resentment of a girl who was almost forty. In that pitch-black night, Mom carried Song away from the village, avoiding the contemptuous looks that had been passed down from her grandmother's generation, to Mom's generation, and then to Song's. Mom did not want her own child to bear the slander of the world. In that dark night, with tears streaming down her face, Mom helped Song across the ferry, across the village path, staggering up and down to this river area. The name "Song" was also called from that time.

Today, maybe mom will come home a bit late, you cook rice and braised fish, mom will come home to eat later!

Song obeyed immediately when he saw his mother carrying her conical hat and walking towards the communal cultural house. For the past two or three days, his mother had been going in that direction, returning home late at night. He did not know what his mother was doing out there, but as soon as she left the house, Song would quickly climb ashore to look for Uncle Khanh. The children were all gathered together, quickly completing the final preparations for the festival. Every time he returned home, he had to jump into the river, scrub himself clean, wipe off all the paint that was still on his face and hair, and ask the children in the Raft Village to look to see if it was still dirty before he dared to return home.

These past few days, mother and daughter had dinner late. Every night on the house swaying on the waves, mother and daughter would quietly put braised goby fish with pepper into their bowls and eat them gently. No one said a word to anyone, it seemed like everyone was in a happy mood, happy to be immersed in the atmosphere of celebrating the country's independence day. Unfortunately, mother also hid from Song the fact that she went to the cultural house with some women to sew national flags, and stick red flags with yellow stars so that on the day they could distribute them to the people down the river. As for Song, he was probably afraid that mother would be sadder when she just hung around outside all day, and he also wanted to surprise mother about the "independence day" campaign of his uncles and nephews, so he waited until the day to tell her. It seemed that mother was always the last one to go - he thought so, because for the past few days, red flags with yellow stars were shining brightly on the corrugated iron roofs of all the houses up the river, but mother did not notice. Or maybe mother was vaguely thinking about something far away out there.

Hey River? Why are you covered in paint? What are you doing here?

- Mom, what are you doing here? I'm… painting the national flag to celebrate the 80th anniversary of National Day.

Song and her mother looked at each other in surprise when they also met at the hamlet's cultural house. Today, everyone agreed to collect flags, art equipment, and some banners and slogans to welcome National Day. The rooftop struggles were now over, Uncle Khanh took the kids to the cultural house to introduce to the other girls and boys in the hamlet the achievements of the "little devils" for nearly half a month. He also bought them some snacks from the market, after all the hard work these days, the kids really craved snacks like fried chicken and french fries, dishes that they had only had once in a long time.

Mom looked at Song and understood everything. It turned out that she had known that Song had been going somewhere with some kids in the raft neighborhood. She thought they were going out together, but it turned out they were doing something, making flags and working very hard.

Following Song’s hand, Mom saw the houses floating on the river now changed color. The national flag was printed on the simple corrugated iron roofs but it shone with pride and boundless joy. All were filled with joy, welcoming the important holiday of the country. Song held Mom’s hand tightly, it seemed like it had been a long time since she had seen Mom smile…/.

Switzerland

Source: https://baolongan.vn/niem-vui-doc-lap-a201568.html