But if someone is a little more interested, I will have the opportunity to explain more clearly that I have been living in Ho Chi Minh City since I was 17 years old, have grown the leaves of youth, have shed some yellow leaves, have planted the roots of pain and longing.

I have been in my hometown for 17 years and I have been in this city for 33 years. The number reminds me clearly that I am not a complete Saigonese, but I have lived and loved Saigon with all my heart.

17 years old pink lips pink heart

At 17, I went to college, went to the dormitory, and three times I packed my backpack and went home to visit. That was three times I packed all my belongings and got on the car. Every time I planned to go home right away, not studying at all, whining: "Mom, let me stay home for another year. I'm only 17. When I turn 18, I'll fly away like a big bird."

My parents just smiled, my grandmother put a piece of meat in my bowl, told me to eat some more rice and then go take a nap, we would talk again in the evening or tomorrow morning. However, there was no further conversation.

Late the next morning, my mother gently shook me: "Wake up, Dove, I'll take you to school on time." I was sleepy and didn't ask for anything more, obediently sitting behind my father on the Cub 81 and continued sleeping. My hometown was always hazy behind me every time my father took me to Thu Duc.

Once, my father even used a rope to tie us together, because he was afraid that I would fall asleep and fall. Writing this, I feel infinitely sorry for my father, when he dropped me off at school, he walked the whole way home alone. Surely he was sad and missed me, missed me more than his forgetful daughter.

On that bike alone, my dad tied me to something to avoid falling. My daughter Bo Cau is quickly making new friends, integrating into the community life and opening up to the joyful life of her youth. This city has witnessed it all, and continues to nurture me in its own way.

In my second year, I left Thu Duc campus to study at Dinh Tien Hoang campus of the University of General Sciences. The bustling city was really new to me at that time. One stormy afternoon on Nguyen Thi Minh Khai street, when my sister and I bent our backs to cycle from Tran Hung Dao dormitory to Nguyen Chi Thanh dormitory, the rain of cajeput flowers fell beautifully like in a movie.

Stopping the car for a moment, Tu said: "Plants and trees have their own way of spreading, humans are probably the same, Bo Cau. Half of it is self-will, half of it must depend on the wind like these oil flowers"...

Tu is my dearest sister, who has been rooted in Saigon for ten years, then another stronger wind called fate, uprooted Tu to live abroad. I am still here, every afternoon the wind blows the oil flowers, I miss Tu dearly. This seed sits and misses that seed.

Because he was born 13 days after the country was at peace, the name Bo Cau also comes from that reason. I often joke with Tu, he doesn't need to be good at addition and subtraction to remember his age, when his birthday is near, there will definitely be banners and newspapers reminding him.

I remember when I was ten, even though I lived in a faraway province, I still sang the song City of Ten Seasons of Flowers. When I was 25, even though I knew I was just a mortal who owed the world a hundred debts, I still had to hum Saigon, Fairy of the Year 2000…

In a very normal way, I got married, became a tiny cell of Saigon following the formula of going to university, falling in love, getting married, and having children. Once again, I didn’t have to do the math when my son was born in 2000. Every two thousand is how old my son is. It was truly a special milestone.

Going through youth with Saigon

Because a new seed appeared, the forever 17-year-old emotional field inside me gradually changed. This time, Ho Chi Minh City was more mature and had more worries.

The city is no longer just the Youth Cultural House with poetry nights, no longer the leisurely daily rides across the city center from Dinh Tien Hoang to Tran Hung Dao dormitory or the activities of the Schoolyard Sunshine Club.

Because I have a child, the city to me now is also the Zoo, the Children's Hospital, the clinic of Ward 18 where I take my child for vaccinations, and the kindergartens, primary, secondary and high schools where my child grows up every day.

The city is work, is days of traffic jams, mother impatiently rolls the wheel, child tired of waiting. Living and living like that, like many people going back and forth morning and night.

Sometimes I also hum: Such a small city/ But I can't find it/ I can't find it in this crowded place...

It is a feeling of loneliness that is easy to see when we walk in the crowded life. Actually, I always feel lucky, especially when my son waves to his mother to go to school. His bright face is a metaphor for Saigon in his mother's heart.

Then one day, in the jubilant atmosphere of the 40th anniversary of the country's reunification, I learned that I had cancer. Please ask me if I survived that illness, so that I can answer that I am alive, I am still alive and will live on this land.

I am now jubilantly celebrating my 50th birthday with the city. It is a strange feeling. My ten strange years have passed. I curl up to love myself, be grateful to others and continue living with my son. The city has curled me up in its embrace in the windy afternoons. After the illness, I let go of my job, I got divorced and was bewildered.

Ten years were like a dream. The city once again taught me the way back, taught me to be diligent and whispered: "Dove, don't panic!". It was just like when my son, in pain, wiped his mother's face and said: "It's okay, I'll always sit right here with you!".

Ten years ago, before entering the operating room, I did not tell my son anything, because I knew that I would come out and be nurtured by the city with all its love. Ten years later, on a normal, healthy day, I told my son everything he needed to know if I suddenly passed away.

Of course I have been very wordy, but in it, there is one thing I remind you to keep in mind: "Trust people and trust sweat", with those two things you will have a good life when you continue living in this land.

Despair or awakening, peace and rapids, Saigon has through relatives and friends comforted and consoled me, told each other about some ancient temples so that my feet can gradually get used to visiting. The city turns out to still echo with the sound of temple bells.