Sometimes, amidst the busy life, do you ever pause for a moment, reminiscing about your childhood days? Those days when our homeland was still poor, no electricity, and we didn’t even know what phones or computers were, just neighborhood kids with innocent games and smiles.
I’ve always been grateful to have grown up next to a river. That river became an invisible companion throughout our childhood. Along its banks, we played countless games—jump rope, hide and seek, and flying kites. My dad make a kite for me by bamboo, papers, and a bit of cold rice to paste the paper to the bamboo. On the bank of river, it was also where I ran out sobbing countless times when scolded by my mother, without a word, the river just quietly serene, calling the wind to blow away all the anger and then calmly return, i was running back to hug my mom and apologize, the whole family together again for the evening meal.
In summer, our greatest joy was swimming in the river. At school, whenever the class ended, we always met at Mr. Duc’s neighborhood to swim. The reason we chose that neighborhood was because it had a lush green grassy bank, a spacious riverbank, and Mr. Duoc as our guardian. Mr. Duoc was a fisherman on the river, and he was really good at swimming. He lived alone, so he was always happy whenever we played; he had a cornfield, and when harvest time is coming, he had cooked a big corn pot for us. After swimming, we shared corn, all delicious.
Until today, when my friends and I have grown up, someone stay hometown and someone go far away, I am sure that wherever I am, the memories of those little days of swimming in the river are forever in my mind. No fear, no worries, although sometimes the meal only has boiled sweet potatoes, corn, and salt must be replaced with plant leaves.
To me, it is a spiritual drug after a tired and tense working day. Someday, when I have devoted enough to my country, I will return to my hometown.
