Short story: Spring fields

Back then, on the days off from farming, the husband would wake up early to go fishing in the fields, while the wife would stay home to grow vegetables, untangle nets, and take care of the children. During harvest time, husband and wife would plow and harvest together. Life was poor, but warm and happy...

On the eve of Tet, the wind still blew in cold gusts, the sky was a dull gray. On the road, young grass was sprouting, green shoots popping up among the withered old grass. In the fields, people were busy sowing the winter-spring crop. In the deep, low-lying fields, the smell of young mud was strong. Just tomorrow, the rice fields would be covered with rice. The high fields and alluvial plains were being plowed to prepare for planting peanuts, corn... Everyone was busy, working, talking about shopping for Tet, and telling each other about their plans for the new year.

Doan's steps were faltering, his eyes as sad as the gray sky. Would anyone still remember Doan, when he accidentally caught those strange looks? Suddenly, someone called out: "Uncle Doan, are you back? Come over to my house for Tet!" Doan was speechless, it turned out that someone still remembered him, he nodded slightly and walked quickly. Just follow the small path across the field and you will get home.

Every time a farmer sows a seed in the ground, he is sowing hope for the future, for a bountiful harvest.

There it was, a small, dilapidated thatched house nestled under a tall palm tree. The house had been abandoned for many years, the thatched roof was rotten, termites were building it up in clumps, wild plants were growing in clumps, the earthen walls were tilted and collapsed, and weeds were growing all around the house. Around it were rice fields, crops, and further away were deep, white-water fields. Many years had passed, life had changed somewhat, yet this place was still so peaceful, it was just that Doan didn't know what to do next, the future was so bleak. He let out a soft sigh.

The graves of his wife and daughter were hidden in the weeds, the soil pushed down so that their shapes were no longer clear. Doan quickly used a sickle to cut away the knee-high weeds, used a hoe to dig up the roots, and raised the grave. When he finished, he lit incense, his eyes filled with tears. So much pain and suffering welled up in his heart, tears fell, settling in every wrinkle.

The afternoon got colder and colder. The man sat huddled up, lighting a cigarette, his rough hands rubbing together, making a rustling sound. The fire flickered brightly, lighting up the entire space, dispelling the chill of the evening.

- Honey, I just caught some banana fish. Let's go get some straw to burn and dip it in salt and pepper. It's delicious!

The wife smiled at her husband and said:

- That's great, I just bought a bottle of delicious rice wine.

The husband was delighted: "Then there's nothing better, let's do it now, then we can both enjoy some drinks together later."

Back then, on the days when farming was not so good, the husband would wake up early to go fishing in the fields, while the wife would stay home to grow vegetables, remove nets, and take care of the children. During harvest time, the couple would plow and harvest together. Although life was poor, it was warm and happy. The husband never raised his voice at his wife, and the wife was patient, hardworking, and took good care of her husband and children. The small house was always filled with the laughter of children and the loving words of parents. However...

Doan grabbed the bottle of wine and drank it all in one gulp, a hint of sweetness suddenly lingered in his mind, he took another sip, happiness gradually sank into his memory, he sobbed. The smell of wine suddenly became strong, the bitter taste gradually permeated his mouth, he vaguely thought about the past. Born without knowing who his parents were, Doan grew up in poverty and hardship. He thought that happiness would smile on him when he had a small family with a virtuous wife and a good child. But his wife also fell ill and left him. Before closing her eyes, his wife told him to take care of and raise her children well. Doan raised his children alone, when he was ten years old, his daughter died of drowning. The shock was too great, the man left the village to wander. Many incidents happened, at times he thought Doan had lost his life in a foreign land, but fate still let him live. Live to return to his old village, the place that used to be his homeland, his family.

The sun rose, the sun was so magical, the sun made the spring scenery suddenly brighter and more fragrant. Look, the bare branches suddenly sprouted green buds, raising tiny leaves as if waving hello, the sky was also higher and bluer. The sound of people laughing and welcoming spring echoed throughout the village. That made the sadness seem to swirl deeper in the lonely person's heart. Doan sat absent-mindedly on the edge of the field all morning, watching the scenery, thinking about the past, present and future, muttering: "It's true, drinking to dispel sorrow only makes sorrow worse...".

The alcohol slowly seeped into his body, feeling light and airy, the man lay down on the grass bank, falling asleep drunk. When he opened his eyes it was already past noon, someone's singing was piercing his ears: "Oh fragrant rice, let me sing with you/ Because rice loves life, the fields are green and lush..."(*). In the field, a woman with a rough appearance, wearing a conical hat, a headscarf covering half her face, her hands were nimbly planting rice, her mouth still singing loudly although her singing voice was very bad. Doan laughed in the alcohol fumes:

- It's noon, aren't you tired and still looking so happy, sister?

- Uncle Doan is awake?

- Who still remembers my name? - Doan was surprised.

- I'm Luyen here. Tired, but still have to love life, uncle!

- Well, just love, I'm bored with life.

- Hey man, you can be bored with anything but not bored with life.

The woman still worked quickly, each young rice plant swayed in the sunlight, in a moment rows of green rice appeared before the eyes, each young rice plant was like a piano key, the hand of the rice planter was like a performing artist. Spring came, the fields were full of life, each small rice plant took root and grew, green peanut sprouts burst out of the ground to bravely welcome the sunlight. Everything seemed to be waking up after a cold winter.

The words of the woman named Luyen seemed very innocent but in reality there was something like mocking, laughing at those who were bored with life. Mrs. Luyen, the ugliest woman in the village, the spinster, had a son before her, he must be very grown up now. Well, at least she was happy for her, having a place to rely on in her old age.

- Have you eaten yet, Uncle Doan?

- Me, just need wine.

- Alcohol does not make you full and is also bad for your health.

Luyen went to the stream to wash her hands, carrying the small bucket closer to Doan.

- If you don't mind, then eat some banh chung with me for fun.

- What's the point of eating or drinking? I'll just get drunk and sleep all day.

- Oh, that can't be, what if I get a stroke...

- Then just die to avoid suffering.

- I'm really upset when you say that. Death is not the solution. To be honest with you, the day my son Ti died, I thought the same thing. But then I thought about it again, the more life teases us, the more we have to live with strength. After night comes day.

- Ms. Luyen said some interesting things. Doan smiled faintly. But why is Ti...?

Luyen's eyes filled with tears, her voice choked:

It's all my fault, uncle, because I'm poor, I'm so miserable, that year my mother and I went to collect scrap metal, while crossing the street, unfortunately the boy was run over and died. After that, I felt like a lost soul, life was worse than death, I wanted to die to end it all. But God kept forcing me to live. So I just encouraged myself to live happily every day, so that Ti in heaven would also feel happy that day.

As she spoke, Luyen wiped away her tears.

- Have a cake with me for fun.

Doan shyly took the banh chung from Luyen's hand and ate a piece. The sweet, sticky taste of sticky rice mixed with the fatty taste of green beans and pork was so delicious. So delicious! - Doan softly exclaimed. Perhaps it was because his mouth had long been accustomed to the bitter taste of alcohol that today he found the banh chung so delicious. Or maybe it was because he began to feel the closeness and warmth of the countryside people's love.

In the fields, the rice is singing happily in the spring sunshine, each gust of wind plays with the leaves, making them rustle. Spring has covered the fields in a fresh green color. Strangely enough, someone once said that each green sprout is a sprout of hope. So every time a farmer sows a seed, a seedling, he is sowing so much hope for the future, for a bountiful harvest. If one does not sow hope in the present, how can one have the right to dream of future achievements?

- Brother Doan, try your best. I can only encourage you. Luyen patted Doan's shoulder and waded into the field to continue planting.

- Ms. Luyen, thank you!

Luyen turned back and smiled at Doan with happy eyes.

There was something choked up in his words of thanks. His eyes suddenly blurred, perhaps it was time to end the gloomy days of pain and sorrow to start a new, brighter life. Before his eyes, the spring fields seemed to stretch endlessly.

(*) Excerpt from the song Spring in the rice and flower villages.

Tran Tu

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