I still remember the shape of the banyan tree standing by the old pond, facing the muddy La Nga river - the world of my childhood. The banyan tree was not tall, not lush and shady like the old trees, but it had a strangely quiet and peaceful appearance.
She once told me that when she was young, she was a girl who made conical hats in the countryside of Quang Tri . She fell in love with a soldier. They met under the roof of a small market, in the days when the bombs had not yet stopped. They made an appointment on the edge of the forest, where there was a stream and a banyan tree to shield them. And love blossomed silently, nurturing the seeds hidden in the ground. But then the war spared no one, he and his unit went to the South, she stayed behind with a fetus in her belly and a longing that no one shared.
Afraid of being discovered by her family, she quietly headed south, leaving behind a letter. She chose a deserted stretch of river to build a garden, make conical hats, and wait for the day to meet him. After learning that he had died in the battle at Xuan Loc, she quietly planted more palm trees as if telling herself to gradually let go of her expectations.
The profession of making conical hats is becoming increasingly difficult, the orchards of banyan trees are thinning out, giving way to many other types of trees. I grew up surrounded by banyan leaves, the sound of the waves, the lush green of the fruit trees and the love of fresh nature…
The day I followed my husband back to the city, the leaves hanging down by the river rustled more strongly, like love, like attachment and like farewell.
The day I returned to mourn her, I saw her flowers bloom for the first time. The flowers were long, ivory white and gave off a gentle fragrance like her devoted life. The flowers bloomed like a proud and devoted farewell, blooming once to overwhelm the sky with color. Like her own life, loving with all her heart and then silently entering eternity to reunite with him...
After many years of wandering in the bustling city, after many broken loves, surrounded by thorny gossips, I returned - like a loser looking for forgotten roots. The banyan tree on the riverbank is no longer there, but the young banyan trees have grown up, green and lush, covering everything like the conical hats my grandmother left to dry in the sun. It turns out that after blooming and bearing fruit, the wind blew the banyan seeds and planted them in the ground. It turns out that life is always moving and changing unpredictably. Maybe in my current job, I am no longer suitable, but who knows, another better job will come to me. The same goes for marriage, forcing it will not necessarily bring happiness.
Live, dedicate yourself like the banyan tree, like her, accept the end of the old to regenerate new things...
Red Goose
Source: https://baodongnai.com.vn/dong-nai-cuoi-tuan/202507/chao-nhe-yeu-thuong-la-buong-lang-le-uom-mam-68f1f5a/
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