The fragrance of the flower

It was a gentle, sweet scent, like a call echoing deep in my memory, awakening the innocent, pure days of my childhood. I suddenly remembered the times I sat waiting under the tree, looking up at each golden star fruit peeking out from under the lush foliage in the afternoon sunlight.

The old star apple tree stands desolate in a corner by the edge of the well. Its leaves silently hang down, shading the small garden behind the chicken coop. Every autumn, the branches and leaves seem to be heavy, sparkling with round, plump fruits as if gathering in themselves the whole season of bright sunshine. The golden star apple in the old fairy tale silently ripens, silently giving off a fragrance, a fragrance that is both pure and passionate, seeping into every corner of the old house, clinging to the afternoon breeze and then lingeringly carrying its scent through the streets and yards... The ripe star apple has a very unique scent, unmistakable, even though people can forget many scents, but once they have inhaled the scent of ripe star apple, they will forever be attached to it, just like the way people fall in love without realizing it.

Illustration: Tra My

I still remember clearly the autumn afternoons, when the sun was slanting down on the yard with peeling lime, she would place a bamboo basket under the star fruit tree and use a bamboo pole to pick the golden star fruit. She would give some of the star fruit to the neighbors, and to the children at the end of the village. Every time she came back from herding buffalo, she would linger, some sitting on the buffalo's back, some standing on tiptoe high on the brick wall as if trying to inhale the scent of ripe star fruit to fill her chest before leading the buffalo back to the barn. The rest she would put in a bamboo basket, placed right on top of the cupboard. Just entering the house, the star fruit scent would spread out strongly, mixed with the smell of wood from the bed, evoking the smell of time lingering in the old room... making the whole space at that time suddenly turn into a memory filled with scent...

The season of ripe star fruit is also associated with many small, gentle and warm memories. I remember the hot afternoons when I lay on a hammock under a tree, closed my eyes, and let the scent of star fruit gently spread, as if Tam's hand in the old fairy tale was fanning the areca palm leaf, somewhat dispelling the heat. I remember most when the star fruit was ripe, gently peeling off the thin outer layer and bringing it to my mouth, I would feel the light sweetness on the tip of my tongue.

Time passes, and autumns gradually fade away, but the scent of the star fruit still lingers in my somewhat cramped memory. Every time I pass by the street in the autumn, just by smelling a faint scent, I suddenly feel like I am back at the old star fruit tree. I see the yellow sunlight shining through the leaves, hear the sound of cicadas falling from the tree canopy at the end of the season, and even hear my grandmother calling me to go out to the garden to pick the star fruit before the birds come to eat them. Those memories, though untouchable, are always present in my heart, even though time tries to hide them.

The streets have entered autumn, the season of the star apples from my hometown has also ripened. The market still has a few stalls selling them, but the flavor seems to have faded. Perhaps it has been a long time since I last heard the sound of star apples falling in the yard, no longer saw the figure of the old lady bending over to neatly arrange each fruit into a basket, nor have there been those cool, windy afternoons with pale sunlight in the garden.

Like a whisper of memory, the scent of the flower is like a bridge between the present and the past, reminding me of the past days, of the love that nurtured a pure, peaceful childhood, so that as I grow older, my heart becomes more and more aching with the vast, unspoken longing. Because after all, to be able to stand firm in the hustle and bustle of life, one does not need too many great things, but just a familiar scent, to know that one once had a beautiful childhood, had ambitions and many dreams...

Source: https://baodaklak.vn/van-hoa-du-lich-van-hoc-nghe-thuat/van-hoc-nghe-thuat/202508/nong-nan-huong-thi-25002b0/