When does youth say goodbye?
I came earlier than expected. I arrived ahead of my scheduled meeting with the students, so I wandered around Lữ Gia, hoping to catch sight of the couple who, after all these years, still cherished their love as if I had never faded. Memories.
Fifteen years ago, the husband, now with white hair, would still tenderly call out to his wife with sweet words, just like the warm, roasted jackfruit seeds they sold every morning. Back then, the Saigon sun was infused with the sweetness of love. But now, the couple is no longer there. Have the youth of that love been bid farewell by time? And if so, when did it happen?
Youth remains as long as we still hold onto innocence.
Crossing the parking lot, I entered through the student gate on Tô Hiến Thành Street, leaving behind the students of Hochiminh University of Technology sitting and studying at the tables arranged along the corridor.
How strange. Once covered in lush green grass, the university courtyard was now crisscrossed by basketball and football courts for students. A young student caught his attention, playing with a kitten. Innocence. The eyes and smiles of youth were speaking to the younger sibling beside him. In silence, I felt as if I were reliving a beautiful part of life.
That’s why I cherished the company of young people. They reignited in him the passion of a life once lived without hesitation, now only kept alive by engaging with the fiery spirit of the youth, to catch the flame and burn along with it, as time gradually dims the fire of youth. Lethargy begins to suppress the wild passions or dreams that once burned brightly in the minds of listeners, in the eyes of the onlookers. Passion is what makes youth so captivating.
I sat in the loft of a makeshift café, designed as a demo for those curious about the solar energy system, a creation of a former student. I listened to a young teacher with a beautiful scar on his face, speaking with the accent of the sun-scorched Central Vietnam, who is now a lecturer in the Mechanical Engineering Department, a department older than the school itself, established in 1957.
Life seemed to slow down, the noise and hustle of the busy street outside dissipating like the melting ice in his iced coffee. The young man, once a student who sought knowledge in Taiwan, now a lecturer, passionately talked about his soccer team, and about the upcoming Green Summer campaign, all while waiting for his approval. Naïveté.
The young teacher didn’t realize that my presence alone was already an approval given long ago. Floating. My soul drifted back to the rice fields, wondering if the rice was now at the milk stage, as I listened to the plan for the upcoming campaign in Đồng Tháp province. I could almost smell the fragrance of the young rice plants, their scent swirling around me like a fresh green breeze from the vast fields, making him want to dip my hands into the river, grab a handful of soil, and inhale the scent long lost for many years.
Youth and innocence seemed to linger in the eyes of the people from that place, their large eyes full of sunlight and fields. I listened intently as the lecturer shared my life story, while the students around me studied, their concentration captivating his gaze.
That’s why I loved young people—unfazed by personal or collective gains, by winning or losing. Passion, enthusiasm, and naivety. I switched his form of address from "you" to "teacher," and then to "brother," realizing that he should live his age, to avoid making him uncomfortable. Passion is a feeling that should remain pure.
The young ones accompanying him admired the old machinery from the French and Russian eras, strolling through the university’s sprawling campus, the largest in Saigon's urban area.
A few drops of rain lightly brushed against my head, bringing me back to my daily life. I bid farewell to myself with a lingering question. Would the young ones I brought along have to say goodbye to their youth too soon on the path of learning and growth? Perhaps on that very path, the youth had already slipped away at some unknown crossroads? Study and work, work and study. But life is not just about those things; deep down, I wanted to see the young ones live their youth fully, savoring every moment. Somewhere, the question of youth lingered.
Does youth say goodbye when we begin to doubt?
The youthful lives of children today, with their “evening meals of bread,” their “love for street food like hủ tiếu gõ or instant noodles with a poached egg,” or their dreams of becoming "young men" led by love to abandon endless dreams, only to begin a self-created loneliness, humming the songs of their lives, but with eyes no longer clear. Youth has bid farewell without us even realizing it.
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