Guys, when we were still in school.
Well, the early stages of a person’s education are often divided into several stages. What people now call elementary school and middle school were then called primary school, then secondary school, then high school…what I’m talking about is the university period.
The reason I want to mention it again is because even though I wasn’t a full grown adult yet, I could still call that the growing up period back then was fun and humorous. All the jokes were just to find something funny, to find something cool to say to laugh. That’s why there are stories about finding out the good and beautiful things of each region to tell, and also the ugly things to tease each other.
Those days were healthy, young, and enthusiastic. Whenever there was a holiday or an anniversary, classes and courses often had art performances… the way each class performed was full of folk songs, ballads, plays, and songs that made me remember forever the performance style, the heroism, but above all, the humming and emphasizing of the melody and lyrics.
So long and so far..are the days of longing
Where the fire burns…is, is the heart of love
I am on the march..
Yes, I don’t know in what space, what context the musician composed each word of that song…but when my class’s choir sang…it was as vibrant as an army moving…I sang but my calves felt like thousands of ants were crawling down my spine…because in the space of the lyrics and the dance taking place before the eyes of the dancing groups…there was the image of the mute girl from that day lingering.
Where the fire burns…is the heart of love.
Now when I write these lines, even though they may be long-winded and have nothing to do with the flow of the story…but it is the emotion, the nostalgia, the love for yesterday and today that is intertwined between the people who appear in this story…so I have to tell you…
two words..then and now
the day that guy came up and asked us…do you guys know any place that teaches children with signs of hyperactivity and slow speech?
The guy asked who was like that.
it told my nephew
oh it told, it’s the story of his older brother… after 3 times of extending his labor export visa, earning a lot of money, building a big house, the oldest son plays games all day, the father flies a plane … hihi I told you guys already, right?
After that, the siblings got along with each other, and had a son. They had enough material things, new circumstances, and better conditions than before. The child was only 7 or 8 months old and spent all day online. Showing him things to entice him to eat. It affected his communication and brain development. At 3 years old, he still couldn’t speak. The doctor said he had a perceptual dysfunction and signs of hyperactivity because he was exposed to technology too early. The child’s brain formed a passive receptive attitude. If it wasn’t met, it would become hyperactive.
I only know that he had to be sent to a special school afterwards… his family returned to a time when there was no dots. The entire internet was cut off… the eldest son was restrained, it took a long time for his studies to stabilize… so that the youngest son’s father could stop sighing… like a family overcoming a time of turmoil.
Many times when we were sitting and talking, thinking for a while, the second guy said he wished it was the old days, the time when there was no internet but humans still existed and developed..the second guy just finished speaking
the guy said…are you crazy..
oh…there’s a good show for the two to start a war…
I was silent again in curiosity, surprised and waiting. I thought that the first place guy would immediately start arguing and arguing with the second place guy, but no. He pondered for a long time and then looked out into the vast space, not knowing what he was thinking. After a while, he hesitantly said:
In life, telling the truth sometimes the other person does not understand the situation, does not sympathize and makes the speaker feel ashamed.
The bastard said what the hell is there to be shy about..tell your mother why she’s always lurking around..
it said, ah the guy said
It tells the story of the day, how hungry it was when the brothers and sisters waited for their mother to come home from the market.
His hometown was far from the village at that time, it was very difficult to go from home to the market. That day, his mother and father carried two pigs of about 15kg to the market to sell to buy rice, his brothers and sisters stayed home waiting for their mother to bring rice home. After noon, his sister went up the hill to pull up two young cassava bushes, got some tubers, brought them home to boil, but could not peel off the red skin that contained poison, and when it was not cooked thoroughly, the brothers and sisters were hungry and ate hastily, vomiting all over the house. After noon, in the afternoon, his mother came home from the market and saw her children like that, crying loudly… her father took some sugarcane, crushed it, squeezed the juice for them to drink, and cooked porridge to save her children.
He told his mother to bring 2 wild pigs to the market to sell.. bought back a piece of suckling belly, all flabby belly skin. brought it home to stir-fry for the children to eat.. the rest to buy rice to eat to get through the lean days.. March, the 8th
then it asked…so do you guys want to dream…that dream of the old days again?
both me and that guy sat there listening, dumbfounded..neither of us could say anything..finally he said..missing and wishing then
remember what is most beautiful. wish for what you desire most at that moment, not everything, understand?
yeah right
thanks to that day i have something
oh now i remember
a child who has just reached puberty…the soul of a naive child wrapped in the body of a young rooster who has just started crowing, has young spurs…a hoarse voice, and a mustache with spiky hairs
In nature, I’m like a child who was given a bag of colorful candies and kept them tightly. Looking at the children surrounding me, longing to share. No matter how generous I am, I just slowly reach out and pick up each unattractive color and share it with them one by one.
feeling like everything is mine..that’s why I have this funny thought about my aunt Tham, my aunt Hong..on the 3rd day of Tet holiday, two boys sat on either side wanting to fight over each other..but just because of a few glasses of wine. I was so drunk that I fell onto the bed and only woke up at almost 9pm..
……
It’s dark outside now, the rain is pouring down like flour, it’s cold… thinking about what Mr. Tuan said yesterday in the vegetable field… who knows, maybe my aunt Tham is now warmly snuggling into the arms of the young man present at dinner tonight?
I know it’s impossible, I know it’s a pity but you’re my aunt… childish nature… I really hate you, just this afternoon I said… be good and I’ll reward you. Where the hell are you going now?
Now curious.. tonight she is mute and has a stomachache but no one rubs it. Lonely in there, walking in and seeing her shed tears..
Miss..sister, is your heart in pain?
shhh
There was only a suffocating sound in her heart and her tears silently fell. Lying on her side, clear tears rolled down from her eyes. Those eyes were so beautiful that normally when you looked into them, you felt like you were dreaming, floating, clear and sweet. But when those eyes looked sideways, a sparkling flame flashed, she smiled, squinting at someone. The corner of her eyes seemed to have a shimmering flame shining on the boy in front of her.
But now those eyes are shedding tears, they roll down the bridge of her nose where it’s sunken, flowing down the side of her lying position, I absentmindedly pull my legs up, my fingers touch the corner of her eyelashes, dip my fingers in… wipe away the tears
Her mute breath came out very lightly, feeling like the suffocation in her chest was released.. I lay on my side with my legs spread out, my right hand placed on her shoulder.
lightly touch the upper arm..
her shoulders shook as my hand seemed to hug her shoulder again.. gently lowered my cheek and her body jerked slightly as if an electric current touched it.
I was shy, didn’t know where to start..just whispered close to her ear..
are you sad, are you in pain
My family has three generations related to the two words “giving birth”… if people want to give birth, they must be pregnant. The womb must be pregnant to have life and for the baby to be born. I once told about the uncle who raised chickens because his family had given birth to three daughters, so the fourth time he got pregnant… he fervently hoped for a son. When his wife got pregnant, he cherished her, took care of her, and hoped all day long… even though he knew that it was not certain… but she still blushed because of her wish and had her husband caressing her all day long while she was pregnant in her belly.
She is mute… everyone understands… God damned her to be born into a family where she has lost her mother, lost her father, and now only has my family… her half-brother, her narrow-minded sister-in-law… she came to my house even though she was taken care of by her grandmother and mother and lacked nothing… but only later did I understand that… what a girl, a woman needs is not necessarily a delicious bowl of rice or a beautiful dress…
Now that I think about it, I want to ask married men…have you ever thought about the feelings and desires of women, women..
The sudden thought of a young rooster just learning to crow…it helped me overcome the deep hole…fear of my mother
Now the dim light from the oil lamp has green drops of light like beans. Shining on the mosquito net, illuminating her face and mine, lying snugly inside the net..it has been more than two months since the night when the mute girl and I braved the storm..the day when grandma went to deliver the baby, mom went to train us both to risk our lives and sneak together..now the mute girl and I are next to each other…just one movement…the mute girl’s beauty is like the reincarnation of the moon, transcending time and melting away…mingling together…a time of passion..
toddle like a child, passing through first love
I gently raised her neck…put my finger on the bridge of her nose…caressed the tears that were spreading…asked softly
are you okay?
She held my finger and gently held my hand, the feeling like chalk spreading along my cheek.
Her left hand reached beside the pillow… took out the black notebook she often wrote private stories in, flipped through the pages quickly, the words appeared… in the dim light…
I look… she wrote in this notebook… the handwriting I taught her before is shorthand.
This type of writing is only understood by the teacher or two people who agree to understand it..a type of writing inferring the meaning of each other’s writing..
it’s like this..i’m missing you..then write..cị.dang nh t… add the acute accent..
I read and reasoned…the words in the dim light
I can’t sleep
I leaned my neck closer to her ear and asked…what’s wrong?
She pointed to the lines she had already written…
I smiled… babbling… do you remember a lot… suddenly she raised the notebook and pointed at the words… 10/10… ah I understand that she remembers with all her heart… absent-minded in mind… toes lightly flexed on the bed, lifted hips up… arched butt, my belly lightly touched her butt… I don’t know why her hips jerked very lightly…
It seems like the loneliness or the feeling of missing a man’s breath has been there for a long time. It’s very strange and sensitive when a man’s breath, a strange breath touches her. The person she’s been longing for for so long… for so long…
I just put her hand on my cheek..now she gently pulled it down to touch my neck..feeling sad
The mute girl curled up slightly..my hands felt a bit tense..now my fingers were like piano keys..soft and active, gliding lightly..loosely..touching down to the hollow of her shoulder, following her hand to touch above her chest..there…the pleated dress..the priest’s wife’s dress for her..the ones people in the city wear..here in the countryside..only at night did the mute girl wear it..it was soft, smooth, evoking a feeling of fragility.
the boundary of the young flesh, the chest above her breasts, tilted, it was exposed, the nipples fell down to the bed..unexpectedly..i looked through the dim light..she shut her mouth and smiled..suddenly her butt lifted..turned over, lying on her back in my position, her legs stretched along the mat.
The lying position made my soul stir, her plump breasts protruded above her pink nightgown..her belly had a slightly protruding baby..below were her plump thighs spread out slightly..playful…I looked around, wondering where she was in pain.
only know that the baby in the womb, before birth, when in labor, has its head on top, and when near birth, it turns sideways and comes out from the bottom.
uh…if you say the baby kicks then your belly is near that place..or if the child swings his arms to hit the ball then the mother’s upper abdomen hurts…I’m worried so I ask you
Sister… where does your stomach hurt?
her mute finger was holding my hand and drawing on the soft flesh.. suddenly pulled down.. gliding over the hollow of her breast, flowing quickly over the high mound where her belly protruded.. touching the soft, tense place close to her mound… oh.. i jerked up, it reminded me of last night when Mr. Tuan was in the vegetable field caressing the skin of his daughter Dong Tuong… so quickly, my hand tensed up.. my heart beat fast, the sound of her breathing was raging beside her ear.. gasping.. hi hi
my lower body felt like ants were crawling, my hips were pressed close… the fork popped up… a lump… the chicken neck was tight. when suddenly she reached over with her right hand and pulled my right thigh, I was lying on my side, face down on half of her thigh… my knee lightly touched the fork… where the fork was planted, there was a pregnant turtle lying face down, soft… mouth open… oozing sweet honey