Now, when mentioning Ham My commune in particular and Ham Thuan Nam district in general, everyone will immediately think of "dragon fruit and dragon fruit" of Binh Thuan. But in the past, during the subsidy period, Ham My and Tan Thuan and the two communes of the district had sufficient conditions of land and water to grow rice all year round. Fruit trees were green and lush. Remembering the time when dragon fruit gardens had not yet developed, I thought of my parents' thatched house in the middle of a year-round green fruit garden. My garden was quite large, the trees were lush and dense, with many winding paths. In the garden, the air was always fresh and cool; at this time we could freely breathe in the air that filled our chests. Maybe now, after a long time living in the city, many roads were crowded with people during the day, and at night the lights were sparkling with many colors, along with the hustle and bustle of life, I sometimes forgot a lot of memories. But when I returned home, seeing the old scenery, every detail of the garden where I grew up appeared intact as before. I stood for a long time in the place where I used to, when I woke up, reach out to scoop a ladle of cool water from the jar to brush my teeth and wash my face. Closing my eyes, I saw myself climbing a coconut tree, picking the leaves and crawling straight up to the top, using my feet to kick the coconuts that had just been grated into the pond next to the roof. Then I saw myself holding a small torch, lighting smoke on a beehive, making the bees fly away, then using a wooden knife to scrape all the wax and honey into a plastic basin; I was stung by a few stingless bees until my arm was swollen, but I was extremely excited with the feeling of having brought home a trophy. The bunches of bananas that had just become full were broken by the wind across the tree. I covered them with dry banana leaves and took them out every day to check and eat the ripe fruit… Then I found myself climbing the tall tree, breaking off the old, tall stalks for my grandmother, cutting the tall, dry spathes to store rice for the days when she would herd cows in the forest all day. I was startled when my mother called: “What have you been doing here so absent-mindedly? The incense has burned out. Come in and light some wine and tea for dad, then burn some paper offerings to invite the guests to eat and drink, or we’ll be late, and we have to prepare to return to the city.”

The trees such as papaya, coconut, banana, betel, and tall trees around the pond in the garden have grown up with me, confided in me, and shared with me many stories and feelings. My childhood was spent in a thatched hut, surrounded by a garden that was green all year round. The house had no gas stove, electric stove, light bulbs, television, or telephone; there was only a wood stove and oil lamp. Every small corner in the garden, around the yard, and all the way to the fields and ditches, gave me countless memories, simple, dear, and pure memories of a time when my hometown was still poor. 20 years of being attached to the countryside helped me to be stronger throughout my later years of studying and living in the city, which was not peaceful and easy at all.

In the early 90s of the last century, wooden pillars were brought back by my villagers and dumped on the fields and even the garden soil. Then the dragon fruit gardens gradually covered the rice fields, destroying the old space of the lush green fields when the rice was young and the golden fields when the harvest was about to begin. Many times, remembering that, my chest ached slightly. Over the years, the old order of life changed, the alluvial fields and empty lands that were associated with the childhood of children going to school every day, herding cows every day like me gradually disappeared. The elderly and adults around us gradually passed away according to the law of life, people could do nothing but feel endless grief and nostalgia every time they thought about them.

On the days when I get to visit my hometown, my grandparents and parents; I often spend some time visiting familiar places on the land where my ancestors grew up; tearfully gazing at the familiar sky. At times like that, I always want to bring something from here back to the city as a souvenir. Because I know, not long from now, when I am old; at that time, even though my heart still loves, remembers, regrets, cherishes, and treasures pure things, it will be difficult for me to see my grandparents, parents and the old scene again every time I return to visit my hometown.