Em dừng lại, tượng Đức Mẹ ở phía
sai hai chặng ba đường, Đức Mẹ đang mỉm cười với yêu thương từng ấy. (Ảnh: Internet)
THE HEART IN HALVES
Dong Khoi Street, the afternoon sun glides across the empty sky. Setting his steps with a rhythmic tremble, the old man looks at the old woman with a mischievous grin: "Saigon and life today have changed, we won’t be walking in two separate lines like the old days anymore, will we?"
He winks, draping his arm over the shoulders that have thinned through the years. A few gusts of wind tuck their cloud-colored hair against a chest once brimming with life, leaving time behind, leaving the Notre Dame Cathedral behind with its pigeons eagerly pecking for food in the waiting afternoons. Her face brightens, her eyes darting back and forth with a smile awaiting Spring.
….
Catinat, morning sun soars through the sky like wings of freedom. You and I walk amidst the clear air. A girl fresh out of high school, preparing for the Faculty of Letters, and a lad who had entered Van Hanh University to chase a financial dream. Walking in line, you and I stride through the heart of the street, catching the breeze from the river. Counting back from that day, it must have been over a month that the adolescent lad lay in wait along the path the girl often took. He did nothing but offer smiles, a few playful teases, and followed closely behind.
The shop signs swayed as if watching them with love, smiling at the young couple on the sidewalk—shy and hesitant, as if fearing the morning sun would fade, the day would rush by, and night would bring a temporary farewell. The wind curled through the flap of her tunic, gently touching the young man’s hand, gliding to the very hem, sensing the delicate fabric. So light, so pure. The girl kept walking while the lad paused. A few beats. She felt his jacket brush against her elbow as the young man rushed ahead to gift her a gentle smile. That was all. The young couple walked side by side amidst the bustling streets of Saigon. People came and went, seemingly unaware that two people were in love right there.
He asked: "Why do you want to walk this way?" She said: "I like this bustle." He scratched his head. She looked at him, smiling: "Why do you love me?" He said: "To make you feel less lonely." She stopped, leaving the Notre Dame Cathedral three blocks behind, her eyes shimmering. She left him with one word: "Crazy! I don’t understand you at all."
Tu Do Street, noon sun spills over the road along with fluttering leaflets calling for peace and freedom. In that crowd of young people, you and I were at the front; the man had shown her that in this life, there is more than just romantic love. That noon, his shirt was soaked in sweat mixed with blood. He said: "It’s my friend’s blood!" Then he chuckled on an afternoon when she buried her head in his chest, crying at the end of the road under a tree with drooping leaves. He reached out to comfort her, then pulled out a two-dollar bill, folded it into a heart shape, and gave it to her. Perhaps he wanted to soothe her like a child, promising a gift if she stopped crying.
In that crowd of people leaving, you and I were at the very back; the man had shown her that in this life, one cannot find the freedom to stay. She waved goodbye to him. For the last time. That morning, his shirt was soaked in sweat mixed with tears. The rumble of the engine echoed in his words: "Leave Saigon, come with me!" She pressed into his hand the two-dollar bill folded into half a heart, smiling through blurred tears: "My mother needs me!" The woman lying on the sickbed threw everything within reach at her, then sobbed like a child upon seeing her daughter appear at the door. Saigon then was bustling with the sounds of people departing.
In the crowd of people stepping out now, there he is, his hair faded, just arriving on a flight back to the motherland. Behind him, a few people he introduces as his children and grandchildren to her—the woman whose hair is as silver as his. The children helped them find each other again through… Facebook, because of a few lines of emotion from the woman who loved remembering old Saigon with only one street, and whose symbol was half a heart folded from a two-dollar bill. Hearing the kids tell it, he always carried the other half of the heart in his wallet. And when the woman who lived with him in that distant land returned to God, it was then he told his children he wanted to go back to Vietnam to walk that one path again.
She stops, the Statue of the Virgin Mary two-thirds of the way behind; the Virgin Mary is smiling with such immense love.
Dong Khoi Street, the afternoon sun glides across the empty sky. She turns to look at him and says: "We’ve reached the end of the road, my dear." He smiles: "Let me give you one more hug!" He winks, draping his arm over the shoulders thinned by the years, leaving time behind, leaving the Notre Dame Cathedral behind with its pigeons eagerly pecking for food in the waiting afternoons. Her face brightens, her eyes darting back and forth with a smile awaiting Spring.
….
Leaning against the railing, the woman takes out a small pouch and pours it out over the river; the wind blows the ashes away. Her face lights up, shimmering, a smile resting on her lips as a few teardrops fly with the breeze. Looking out at the river from the doorway, the man who walked with her has followed the angels to heaven.
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