Photo: Internet Sometimes in my life, I want to forget the tiredness so that the towels can be returned to the peaceful little hamlets, I want to forget about the wide streets to settle myself with the peace of the old season. We went back to the small riverside hamlet, the monkey bridge lying on the river was gone, the water wharf, the boat had left with fragments of time. Sitting and watching the water dissipate, we seem to vanish with a rustling monsoon. The rows of old eucalypts have been waiting for many times to change leaves, how many times to change the land, to move the rain and sun, and the little village keeps it for us with so many overlapping mess. The day we left the hometown, passed the small bamboo bridge in front of the house, waking up with open horizons, sending our hearts back by the waterfront along the river, sending my first love back in a bitter look. I flow into the city with short, evenly long days. To one day find ourselves in abundance in the street, we dream about the simple lifestyle of our homeland. Wake me up every morning with the sound of chickens crowing, with a bright ray of sunlight that pierces the canopy of leaves, and sweet sales of goods in the morning. We walked out into the garden, took a deep breath of the fresh village air, and heard the flowers and leaves whisper blooming. Feel every beat of time, ignoring the old old dogma. Hold your hand to catch the clear morning sun – a peaceful flower blooms under your hand … I wander the familiar village path, where a coconut shadow always appears to lean on. Sitting under the shade of the hometown coconuts, from someone’s home warm, passionate lullabies, these songs follow me throughout my life. The figure of a woman who is industrious, enduring pain and suffering in the countryside is never mixed in up and down road dust. The proud voice of the country pours into the day of diligence so that we love the voice of the motherland forever. We went back and weeped in the night with doubts going through each other. The sound of frogs looking for each other, the clattering of insects, the sound of parents sitting back and forth in the cramped, quiet dinner pot. I used to be excited about the street, tired of the poor days in the countryside. Walk long distances on the feet of youth, across high hills. Let one day see sadness plunge, hesitate to pass each other as a part of life. The countryside brightly lit, we illuminate ourselves in the pond water. Each trace of time chasing after days, the nostalgia of flapping its wings in the iron, remember looking forward to. If you go far, you can be homesick, and you can see simple but heartbreaking images. Now back to look at the homeland, there are things that have forever remained in memory that cannot be changed. Small bamboo bridges, thatched roofs, rows of rows, the noises of noon gradually retreated into the past. I forever embrace the troubled youth, the alum is still sticking to the heels every day, so that every step we take is heavy carrying a domain … In the afternoon, sit back with the innocent river, the old images are blurred into our hearts with long, smoking streaks. On the country river wharf, a boat just let go of the anchor … /.

It took about 2 kilometers to reach the gate. Will not disappoint people to admire, worship, because the pagoda is small but ancient and majestic.

Remember when I was a child, on the full moon day, my whole family used to take each other to the temple to pray for peace. Although the house is about 4 kilometers away from the pagoda, for our villagers, that distance is unharmed. We used to walk mainly because in the past my village was very poor. Only a few people are quite new to the pagoda. The rest are on foot.

We usually visit the temple in the evening. Because during the day, adults are still busy with farmwork until dusk before carrying out their hoes. Should always go to the temple around 7-8 pm. Although the moon was bright and shining, everyone was armed with torches and torches and did not forget to bring a matchbox. Simply entering the street with the shade of trees, or for those who are afraid of the darkness of the night, thinking around, a bundle of torches is a great savior.

When I went to the temple, I was afraid of getting lost, so my father always carried me or carried me. I still vividly remember the innocent questions: “Mommy, I’m kneeling like this, right? How many amnesty? What am I supposed to do? Then I was led by my parents around the temple to pray to the La-Han, Bo-slaps. When we were about to leave, we went to the front yard of the pagoda to kneel at the feet of Quan The Am Mother … The departure was quite boring. In the crimson torchlight of a full-moon night, I sleep on my back for a while.

Remember the times when we went back to the temple to go back to school, the whole group of us pulled together to go to the temple to ask for fruit picking. The pagoda planted many fruit trees, plums, breast milk, longan, guava … But because monks did not pick up in time, ripe fruits often fell on the yard. “You mustn’t break flowers, break that tree. In the Buddha’s vow, please pick the monk and pick “. You guys listen to me. Since my family used to do gong work at the temple, the monks all knew my face. Without asking, the monk said: “You keep picking it naturally. But don’t climb that fall. Behind there is a bamboo stick, back to pick it up ”. Said and then turned inside. We are very happy, picking as much as we want and then eating at the base. When it was time to feel bad, about to hurry home, the monks told me to have vegetarian rice. The delicious vegetarian meal was delicious, even though it was just vegetables, but each of us had three cups. The old monk laughed, a gentle smile: “You should come to the temple to play comfortably, but remember not to climb up and bring the painting. Sunday without school, the children come here to teach solemnity, normal activities to help parents … ”.

Then that beautiful, innocent childhood also passed. As fast as the peaceful smile of the monks at the temple. Every time I go home, I take a little time to visit the temple. The temple is still ancient, mossy as ever. Still lotus pond, plum tree, apricot root, canopy radiate cool. But the old monks that year passed away. The young monks are now full of arms and legs. I always remember the abbot’s saying: “Human life is very impermanent, my son! Live in a way that benefits yourself, your family, your society and don’t hurt anyone. Because it hurts them to hurt themselves. That pain endures a lifetime. Do not let the next day regret what I did today… ”. It is these truthful statements that have helped me to live a life worth living, lovingly in this Ta-Bà realm.