For everyone, summer is the season of cicadas, the blooming season of the phoenix flowers, the season of separation for the wet season of senior high school girls, or the beginning of long trips. But in me, summer is a memory, a memory that will forever be buried deep in the left breast.
That summer began with a pouring afternoon rain in the heart of Saigon. I dumbfounded into the distant raindrops falling on the vines in front of an ancient house. And since then, my diary is full of her name. You and I met by chance in the rainy afternoon, by the water shop next to the blooming tigon fence. Her eyes are wild, dark, and glittery. We held hands on the love train, leaving our wheelchair on the first summer rain.
I met you in the first rain of Summer. (Illustration: “More Than Blue”) The two were wandering on every small alley of Saigon, passing each other through beautiful memories. She said she likes wild flowers, she fills my soul with embarrassing purple flowers, yellow wild anemones, white coins or even the pale pink of tigon. You give me a love for those wild flowers. Am I also a foolish lover who falls in love with wild flowers or am I in love with you so much? You are like a wild flower, I am a lover. (Illustration: “More Than Blue”) We do not like to live in the bustling city but like to roam the suburban streets with few people passing by, so that we can watch the tranquility of life with me. Walking on a path without a shadow of people, thanks to the spreading branches to shade us in the sweltering summer sun. Sometimes it was sitting on a bench by the side of the road, watching the rays of sunlight creep through each tree and dancing in their hair whenever a gentle breeze blew. I picked up the yellow leaf that just fell, carved the names of the two of them and then stored it deep in her pocket smiling. She held my hand through summer. (Illustration: “More Than Blue”) She took my hand through the hot summer days, led me through the bustling streets, blurring the patch of memory to spread a wild flower garden. And when the sound of cicadas on the branches gradually subsided, the phoenix branches sullen after a brilliant summer, she gently let go. It was raining lightly that day, but it was enough to wet my eyes. She said goodbye to me, she put an end to a beautiful summer, she brought a golden autumn and let me slip among the uncertain ambiguity. Then one day, only a fading Autumn will remain in my heart. (Illustration: “More Than Blue”) Stop the car at a roadside water shop, suddenly order an iced coffee cup, watch the bitter drops of coffee fall to the bottom of the glass, take a distant look at the branches of the trees standing water after the drizzle. Now my mind is like a reverse film. I miss the flower branches, I miss the Summer naps and I miss some sparkling eyes. Forever in my thoughts, I startled back to reality, before my eyes is a wall of gold streaked with traces of time. Above, the tigon is still in full bloom, the heart-shaped flowers are torn in half by the pistil, crumbling like bleeding … Do you still remember the tigon flower bushes, the flowers like a broken heart? (Illustration: “More Than Blue”) To enter the “My Summer Memories” writing contest, you can submit your entries truyennganh2t@gmail.com with email subject “My Summer Memories + Article Name”. You can read more about the contest rules here.
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