Chủ Nhật, 14 tháng 8, 2011

Autumn Reading

If I have a daughter (as the future holds, who knows?), I would name her “Thanh Thu” – Blue Autumn in Vietnamese.
Yes, because Autumn holds this blueness of the sky, blueness of the lakes around my beloved city, and sometimes, the blueness in souls.

Autumn is when I start to make a habit of wandering around West Lake to feel the softness of the breeze, then turning to Dinh Le to sink deep in an ocean of books. I would get myself a warm drink, enough to go with the season; then stroll down this street to pick a random bookstore. Then pick a random book, turn to a random page and begin my random autumn reading.

Each story lives a different world. Imagine you who just have one life, could breathe a million, billion lives through the eyes of every character; could experience extensive feelings your ordinary somewhat boring life can’t offer; could shed tears for a complete stranger – and you’ll understand why people love books.

Autumn is also a story-lover, a very keen one indeed. She would whisper a hundred thousand tales if you’re willing to listen to her.
You said you’d like one? Fine, set up an appointment with her, and here you go...

You rush to the appointed place to find her there, drifting away on a wooden bench surrounded by autumn plants. This is where Autumn promised to meet you: by a small lake glistening as if it lighted countless sparks under the sunset, and the grass under you feet is hiding tiny fragile dandelions. She chuckles while you apologize for coming late, says that she’s gotten too used to that.

Now you’ve got time to observe the maiden in white smiling before your eyes, you could hardly hide your surprise. Her long, soft, dark hair is catching a gentle breeze as her merry brown eyes mischievously and silently tell you that she knows what you’ve got in mind.
“Is this ordinary girl really the celebrated Autumn?” - You look at her, full of wonder. You have pictured her differently: red lips of autumn falling leaves, wavy shiny hair of autumn water and glossy blue eyes of autumn sky. She’s not at all like that, for she’s the Hanoi Autumn you’ve just met...

She nods her head and politely asks what would be good for you to hear.

You hesitate for a moment, but soon speak with curiosity: “The story ‘bout yourself, please.”. She stares back at you, yet with a calm look; she hands you a cup of tea and raises her sweet voice. And here’s the story for you.

The wind whispers:
“I am Autumn’s soul.”

It hovers above you; then with a beautiful dance, it gently carries the dandelions on its wings. It gives the water a soft touch, and all the waves are bursting into tinkling laughter.
It mumbles a song and Autumn sings along.

The sunshine smiles:
“I am Autumn’s heart.”

It holds your tea cup with both hands, and the tea feels warm and fragrant. It leans on a tiny bud, and a beautiful flower blossoms.
It kisses on Autumn cheek and brings a cherry color to her lips.

The storm doesn’t say anything. It comes suddenly, hiding all sunshine, making the wind scream out loud. It cries days and nights, and one morning the vanishing haze quietly tells you that it’s no where to be found now.
For it is Autumn’s anger and sadness...

Autumn blinks at the light reflected by the water, her fingers tapping tenderly into the air, as if she were playing the melody you hear from far away. She feels almost serene and aloof. After the storm, Autumn is still Autumn, so calm and soothing with her blue, blue sky.
Because she knows weepy tears and sweetness from Spring, craziness and passion from Summer; because she knows what awaits are Winter’s harshness and chill – that’s why she wants you to be heart-warming for a while.

And she remains silent just like that, not even looking at you or whispering a single word. All dreamy and distant.

Suddenly she reaches out and adds a spoonful of sugar to your tea. A mysterious, yet amiable, sweet smile blooms on her face. Before you know, she has already taken her first steps to leave.

Autumn never has much time to stay anyway.

But you know? She’s happy that she’s made you smile with her story... even only for a short while.

That’s how Autumn is.

So if you come back next year, please smile with her again. You know, she may hold your hand and whisper to you a brand new story... if only you come back.

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