Square Barringtonia blossoms bloom, evoking a realm of longing

Every season the square Barringtonia blossoms bloom, I recall a bygone time of my youth.

I have never stood in Truong Sa to watch the blossoms unfurl their petals. The sea and islands live in me through the memories of journeys toward that faraway place, through stories, photographs, and the anxious wait for news from my loved one on duty on a distant island. Therefore, when encountering a square Barringtonia tree in a familiar place on the mainland, my heart still turns toward the sea.

A tree's silhouette, a cluster of buds, a flower with pink-tipped stamens are enough to summon back so many past memories.

Back then, I was young, carrying in my heart immense eagerness for trips and activities dedicated to the homeland's seas and islands. Each journey opened up something new to understand, to cherish. Places previously known only through maps gradually became familiar. I began following offshore weather forecasts, paying more attention to news about the sea, and lingering longer over images of island soldiers. Out there, someone I loved was on duty. Therefore, the sea to me was also a very personal yearning.

My youth passed by with such joys and longings.

To me, that image is the square Barringtonia flower.

March at the Gac Ma Soldiers Memorial (Cam Lam Commune) brings unforgettable memories, with square Barringtonia blossoms fluttering in the breeze, evoking deeper emotions within me. Each time I took part in tribute activities, offering flowers and incense alongside others and observing moments of silence to remember the soldiers, my heart sank. Amid the scent of incense, I thought of the soldiers who left their youth to the sea; I thought of mothers, wives, and hearths that waited without ever welcoming their loved ones back. There are stories that still haunt after hearing them, and commemorative words spoken that bring tears to one's eyes.

After the memorial ceremony, walking slowly along the pathways, my female colleagues and I always felt an unusually deep peace before the clusters of white and pink-tinged blossoms mingling with other flowers across the grounds, gentle under the sunlight. In a place preserving so much sorrow, the trees remain green, the flowers keep blooming. Love for the seas and islands continues through such return visits, moving from today's deep emotion to a sense of duty to preserve and build for tomorrow. Each flowering season here seems to remind me to cherish even more every encounter, every greeting, every piece of reassuring news sent from afar.

Later, moving to a new workplace, I came across square Barringtonia blossoms along my daily path once again. The tree was somewhat arid, its canopy sparse, and the foliage not particularly lush. Yet I felt a familiar warmth in my heart, as if recognizing a well-known presence amid so much that was unfamiliar.

I loved that lean yet resilient silhouette. Who knows how many sunny days the tree had endured, how much water its roots had painstakingly gleaned from deep within the earth to nourish those clusters of blooms. White blossoms touched with faint pink lay across the yard, their petals still holding traces of moisture. The tree bloomed on and on, as one wave quietly succeeded another the moment it faded.

Then the rainy season in Nha Trang arrived once more. Rains soaked the ground around the tree's base and washed away the dust on every leaf. Standing under the eaves watching the water flow across the yard, I thought of the roots drinking their fill after parched days. Soon, the tree would sprout fresh green shoots, its canopy would grow thicker, and clusters of blossoms would once again be nourished by the land's gentle currents of water.

One morning after the rain, I arrived at the office while water still clung to the leaves. Beneath the tree lay flowers that had fallen the night before. On the branches, new clusters of buds nestled beside fresh green sprouts. Then I walked across the still-wet courtyard, my heart at ease. Behind me, the square barringtonia quietly welcomed the rain. Ahead, a new day awaited.

I still carry the old square barringtonia seasons in my heart: a youth turned toward the seas and islands, journeys of gratitude, and days of longing for those on duty far away. Now, beside this walkway, those memories have embraced an additional courtyard, an overhanging roof, colleagues, and tasks that are gradually growing familiar.

I stood gazing for a long time, suddenly realizing that I, too, was taking root in this place.

AN NHIEN