Top 10 Best Essays About Family

For my mother, Tet is synonymous with endless worries, as she busily prepares meals for the family. In the days leading up to Tet, my mother rushes around, squeezing in shopping after work or on Sundays. The money saved throughout the year for our family's Tet celebration is spent entirely on the festivities. I can never forget the image of my mother frantically riding an old bicycle with a worn-out conical hat, the wind blowing it behind her, while the bike is loaded with Tet goods she bought from the market.

Some days, my mother had to go to the market two or three times to buy everything, but she never complained, tirelessly cycling back and forth to ensure we had enough. Even though our Tet wasn't as extravagant as others, my mother did her best to prepare as much as she could within our family's financial means. Some years, we even had to scoop fish from a pond for Tet meals. There were times when we relied on my aunt to wrap and cook the bánh chưng because both of my parents were busy working until the afternoon of the 30th. We missed the bustling atmosphere of preparing the bánh chưng, but our neighbors' preparation was always a source of joy. The whole neighborhood would gather to spread mats in the yard, wash dong leaves, tie the lạt strings, prepare the dừa leaves, and soak the sticky rice and mung beans overnight for the bánh chưng to cook quickly and be delicious. The parents and children would be busy, calling each other to help. We had to join our neighbors to enjoy the lively atmosphere.

My house had a large chicken coop built with bamboo from the forest, where we raised about 20 chickens, both hens and roosters, to slaughter for Tet. One year, before Tet, a disease killed all the chickens, so there was no chicken meat for our Tet feast. That year, Tet felt incomplete because my favorite chicken dish was missing from the table.

Back then, chickens were only slaughtered for guests or during Tet and memorial services. We couldn't eat chicken unless we had guests. Every time guests or relatives visited, we would secretly rejoice because we knew there would be chicken on the table.

One year, before Tet, thieves broke into the chicken coop and stole all the chickens. My mother was devastated, muttering curses at the thieves who took away our chance to have chicken for Tet. She had to go to the market and buy a few chickens to offer as sacrifices and for the Tet meal. We were so angry at the thieves who had taken away our cherished dish for the celebration.

Only on New Year's Eve did all the preparations for Tet end for my mother. All afternoon and evening of the 30th, my mother hurriedly cleaned the kitchen and cooked dishes for the family to enjoy during Tet. As the New Year approached, I could see how tired my mother was from all the work, but she still pushed herself to finish everything before the clock struck midnight.

Then, there came a Tet when I no longer saw my mother hurriedly cycling to the market for Tet shopping. No longer could I see the sweat on her brow, despite the cold weather, as she rushed back and forth with her heavy load. No longer could I see her joy when she bought an item at a lower price, or the happiness in her eyes when she saw the family gathered around the feast she had prepared. That was the simple joy of a wife and mother caring for her loved ones.

Little did I know, that Tet would be the last one with my mother. The taste of her cooking, which I still remember today, and the sound of her lively voice recounting stories from the market, have now become sweet memories filled with longing for my dear mother.

Collected

"It doesn't matter if we weren't raised in luxury, as long as your childhood is filled with the comfort and love of both father and mother... You are living in a happy family!"

One afternoon in early July, with the sun alternately shining and raining, my four siblings and I gathered together, laughing, sharing a few funny stories, and plucking the silver strands of hair from our father's and mother's heads. Suddenly, a street vendor passed by, smiling gently, and said: "This is what a happy family looks like!" After hearing those words, I felt an unexpected emptiness in my heart, and I began to question the definition of peace and what it means to have a happy family.

What is a happy family? How can we live in one? These are questions we all ponder, constantly searching for the right answers. But as you know, the journey is not an easy one. Some people spend their entire lives hoping to find the answer. However, love and happiness aren’t as difficult to attain if we have a sincere heart, patience, and trust, waiting for a truly fulfilling outcome.

Family love is the strongest source of encouragement for each person in life. We lean on it whenever we're weary, allowing us to stand up and keep moving forward.

A happy family is one where everyone’s material, emotional, and spiritual needs are fulfilled. People love and respect one another, freely laughing and sharing, no matter what challenges life throws their way. Every member must put in a lot of effort to nurture such a deep, sacred, and unbreakable bond.

One crucial element to creating a happy family, which I believe is the guiding principle, is the love shared among everyone. Family love is the strongest source of encouragement for each person in life. We rely on it whenever we're tired to rise and keep moving forward. It is the refreshing stream that nourishes our souls, making life feel more worthwhile, and giving us the motivation to do good and help others. When one person is happy, that happiness will undoubtedly spread to everyone around them.

To keep the flame of love burning, we must give each other trust and respect, allowing us to confidently navigate the complexities of life. We need to take responsibility for each other in every situation and understand the importance of our roles in the family, so we know what should and should not be done to maintain a peaceful and loving home.

Spending time talking and sharing the challenges of life is essential for understanding each other better. From there, we learn which difficulties need to be resolved and which joys we can celebrate. If we focus on doing this every day, the atmosphere in the family will always be cleansed, remaining fresh. Everyone living in such an environment will be much happier. Never let even the smallest negligence find its way into our lives.

Putting ourselves in others' shoes is also necessary to maintain the sincerity in the love we share as a family. Before saying or doing anything, we should think about the other person’s feelings. Will they be hurt or uncomfortable? Will they feel upset? We should adjust accordingly to preserve harmony in the family. Selfishness and narrow-mindedness will destroy another's dignity, causing frustration and preventing any further effort in building meaningful connections. Don’t let one rotten apple spoil the whole bunch!

The family is always the safest place to return to. It’s the peaceful haven that gently embraces our weary feet as we journey through life, the most reliable support whenever we feel vulnerable. That’s why we must always act cautiously, ensuring that the family remains a happy place, even though we can’t control everything that happens. A small issue should be treated lightly, and a big issue should be dealt with wisely, so that the family remains the safest place in the chaos of life.

I absolutely love the quote by author Pham Lu An from his famous book "If You Knew Life Was Limited" and would like to end with it: "Peace is something that must be established and can therefore be re-established… Through a soothing smile, a forgiving word, loving patience, a heart willing to share, an understanding hand, or perhaps even a tear. No matter what, it should never be through giving up. To bring hearts closer together. To make 'home' a place we long to return to and always miss when we leave."

Phuong Hoa

It’s ironic, isn’t it? When we were kids, we wanted to grow up, seeing adults go to work, return home, not having to go to school, not having to do homework, taking breaks whenever they wanted, and buying whatever they desired.

Oh! Being an adult seems so great. Time always seems to wait for you. Eventually, we grow up, pack our bags, and leave the family, our hometown, the place that holds the traces of our childhood. We bid farewell to our younger selves and begin the journey of "becoming an adult" that we once dreamed of.

The bustling, glamorous city streets, countless new relationships form, and a new life unfolds. We rush in, forgetting the longing of our parents, while our phone calls home grow less frequent, though we can chat with our lovers for hours. During holidays and weekends, we explore the world, having fun with friends and loved ones. But have you ever thought, even for a moment, about coming home to share a meal with your parents or taking a stroll with them in the garden? One day, when your body is weary, when money dictates everything, and when everything you want comes with a price, including love and work, things aren’t going as planned. You’ll crave the simple life back in your hometown, wishing you could be "the child" again. But who would be brave enough to return to the village where there are no job opportunities? You will start to think, "When I go home, my parents will say: ‘You've had years of education in Saigon, now you’re back to live with us.’"

When you meet neighbors who ask: "What are you doing these days? Why are you back?" That question feels like salt in a wound. If you say you're unemployed, people might laugh at you, mock your family. You'll worry, stress, and fight against time, trying to put on a worn-out mask to hide your feelings.

Go home while you still can. Time will eventually help people forget those little details. You’ll feel some worth when you return home to help your family.

Go visit home, knowing that time doesn't wait for our grandparents, parents, or loved ones. Think about it—how often do you visit family in a year? Two times maybe? In ten years, how many times will you get to see them? You blame the distance, but you’re willing to travel hundreds of kilometers to visit a beach. You complain about limited funds, yet you can spend a fortune on your favorite dress or a night out with friends, spending half a month’s salary. You say your job is too busy, but work can be arranged.

Go home while you still can. Don’t let regret define your life later. Go home because that’s where you hold memories of your childhood, where people gave you everything without conditions, unlike the world outside, where everything has a price.

Chanh Muoi

What is the true value of life?

Sometimes, we are perplexed by such profound questions. We try to answer it ourselves, as in, the true value of life is family... but what does that truly mean?

From ancient times, humans formed tribes, organized groups with a familial structure, where each member independently hunted, gathered, and ensured the survival of their community. Over time, smaller groups formed bonds, coexisting and developing a stronger sense of consciousness... and that was the origin of family life.

Today, society has progressed countless times, possibly even a billion times... Yet, family still holds its essential role. Every individual views family as the shelter that protects them during moments of joy and sorrow. If someone offered to exchange my family for one filled with wealthy parents, I would still choose my modest family over the richest one. Family is irreplaceable. I feel deep sympathy for the homeless, who have no shelter or support, both physically and emotionally.

The prosperity of a family is not measured by wealth alone, but by the deep relationships and emotional bonds within the family. These strong bonds within families radiate outward, helping improve the society we live in. A family that nurtures healthy, knowledgeable, and socially aware children, guiding them with love and culture, is a responsibility we all share. Any cold indifference, any negative aspect of human nature within a family is reflected throughout society. The love shared within families also extends beyond the home and contributes to the greater society. Family and society are intricately connected.

As society develops, people often find themselves overwhelmed by the sheer amount of work society demands of them. At times, we wonder what our purpose is. For me, I live for a family, a small unit within the vast expanse of society, where many families of varying sizes and wealth exist. Each family strives to keep pace with societal progress, and my own family is no exception.

I only wish for my children to be wise and considerate, with a sense of humility and respect for others. It doesn’t matter if they earn a lot or a little, as long as they have good character, a heart full of gratitude, and the ability to live with integrity, respecting themselves and others in society.

The government has officially recognized August 28th every year as Family Day, a day to honor the values of family in modern society. I have no plans to throw an extravagant feast on this day to treat my wife and children. Instead, I just want each family member to have a chance to think about one another on this special day.

My family, before I married, consisted of my mother and two younger sisters, making four of us. That was our small family living together under one roof. But I also had uncles, aunts, and grandparents from both sides of the family. My mother lost her mother at an early age, and my father’s side had similar hardships due to the consequences of war. My parents married as a result of fate, both coming from backgrounds of parental absence. Together, they had three children, though we were rarely together because of work commitments. My mother quietly raised us, allowing my father to focus on his duties, contributing to society. My father, an honest official, received many awards, but never provided material support. The burden of family life rested solely on my mother’s shoulders. From an early age, we knew hardship and learned how to overcome difficulties. Our poor life was filled with the warmth and love of my mother.

Then, my father passed away early. Again, we found ourselves without a father. My mother, with one hand, shouldered the burden of our lives. The struggles we faced were now compounded by the absence of a father. Despite this, we focused on our education and became successful in our village. After I married, my children grew up with both sets of grandparents, but they never knew their grandfather on my father’s side, as he passed before they were born. Thus, I became the older brother in my family, the pillar supporting my mother, sisters, and children. I embraced this responsibility and cared for my mother as if I were my father, looking after my children as though I were their grandfather. I tried to make up for the absence of a grandfather in their lives.

Fortunately, my wife is highly capable and manages our small family. With her help, I have the ability to care for our children and grandchildren. I take great care of each child from birth. My young granddaughter cherishes me deeply. One year, when she was in fourth grade, she wrote an essay about her most beloved family member: me. Her innocent words moved me to tears. Although her essay earned an 8 out of 10, to me, it was worth a perfect score.

Later, my son, in fourth grade, was also assigned an essay about a family member. While all his classmates wrote about their grandparents or mothers, my son wrote about me. I read his essay again and again, never tiring of it. His words came from the heart, full of sincere affection, and I couldn’t have asked for anything more. This is happiness to me, in its simplest form. This is my family, filled with joy and love.

On Father’s Day, my granddaughter wrote this message for me: (Grandpa, I think I have two fathers. My real father gave birth to me and raised me. But you, Grandpa, take care of all my needs and career. I am lucky to have such a wonderful grandpa. I want to call you Dad. I wish you good health and happiness, and may you always love me.)

My son also sent me a message: (I don’t speak much and am not as emotional as my sister, but I feel your love. I want to share so much with you. On Father’s Day, I wish you health and happiness, and may you continue to be a strong support for Mom and us.)

Both my children have grown up and matured. My daughter is now a high school teacher, and my son is soon to graduate as an engineer. Through this writing, I want to convey a message: Each of us must place ourselves in our family, care for those around us, and be generous, compassionate, and kind. Caring for one another is an infinite source of energy, and nothing in this world brings greater happiness than this.

To love one’s family is the first step toward showing compassion for those less fortunate in society. It is from love for family that we learn to extend our love beyond, to all others. If someone cannot appreciate family, it is difficult for them to be truly generous and compassionate toward others.

For me, family happiness is simple. It’s the care and concern we show each other in a harmonious whole. Children and grandchildren united, siblings sharing joy. It’s not about wealth or status, but about respecting relationships. Parents set an example for children to follow, so that each generation in the family can learn from one another about character, ethics, and values. A healthy family creates a society free from vices, and life becomes much lighter as a result.

Collected

My dear daughter!

My love, life will be fair to you in many ways, so that you can be happy and enjoy a long youthful life. Please listen to your father’s advice and follow it, my dear!

Sweetheart, women are born with much hardship, with the inherent role of becoming mothers and wives once they get married. The equality between men and women is non-existent, except for the rare case where a man can bear children. Therefore, do not rush into marriage. Live your youth to the fullest, be joyful, and make the most of it, my dear. The time of youth, once gone, will never return. There are countless successful women in their 60s, but if you ask them whether they are satisfied with their lives, the majority will say NO. Statistics show that most of them regret not having loved enough, not socialized enough, not traveled enough, and not done the things they wanted to. They haven’t lived the true life of youth.

My dear! No matter how far your footsteps go or how vast your heart becomes, the books will expand your horizons. Books will guide you with the knowledge they impart. Do not be consumed by work, do not rush into marriage and having children. Love, learn to love, be loved, and love the things you desire, my dear. Know how to treat yourself well. Learn to cook for yourself, because those who love you may not always be around. The most important thing is that you must have a job that suits you. Be proactive in your work, as that will give you control over your time. No matter what, you must be able to live independently. My dear, when you travel or go somewhere far, always bring your phone, camera, and a notebook to record everything you encounter. What you find beautiful, you can write down or capture with photos. Memories, images, and emotions will never repeat themselves, my dear.

Sweetheart, your home does not need to be large or extravagant if you are not wealthy. But you must have a small room of your own. It can be very small, but it will provide you with a place to find peace when facing turmoil. If you argue or feel upset, it’s a safe space to avoid going out and being harmed or taken advantage of. It is your sanctuary to restore your inner peace, to hide or release negative emotions. My dear, you must study well and acquire knowledge, for your life will be better, happier, and more fulfilling with it. Knowledge will help you live a rich life not only based on your own experiences but by learning from others’ experiences. My dear, you must learn to drive, whether it’s a bicycle, motorcycle, or car if you have one. You will not need to rely on anyone, not even your husband or any relative. This will give you independence, enabling you to go anywhere you want, saving time for yourself.

Sweetheart! No matter how life unfolds, never let yourself be defeated. Do not blame fate, do not complain, do not cry even if the sky falls. Doing so will not make those who love you feel any less pain. Stay calm, accept, and adapt. Only your own reasoning can help you rise. No matter what, be gentle and kind-hearted. Only then will you be blessed by the heavens with love from God. For it is true that good things come to those who are good.

My dear, and finally, I want to remind you of something important. Always take good care of your health, love yourself, and treat yourself kindly. Drink plenty of water, exercise daily, and eat healthily. Health is everything. Because, on this Earth, people often earn more money than what they truly need for daily living. Don’t wait until you’re old to use your money for medical treatments. You will regret the fleeting youth that has passed... Everyone only has 24 hours a day. Today will never come back, and neither will the precious moments of yesterday. My dear, always remember what I’ve told you, and always love your parents, the ones who gave you life!

Mom and Dad will always love you! Be the daughter who always lives happily, is useful to society, and benefits the family, my dear! Life will be fair and gentle to you.

Lê Minh

I live far from home, only returning every few years to visit, often during the Lunar New Year to celebrate with my family. With each passing New Year, my father's hair grows more silver. Every time I return, my father bids me farewell at the airport. He raises his hand and says goodbye in a soldier's manner, 'Travel well, my daughter.' The last time, my father could no longer accompany me to the airport because his health had worsened.

Since I was a child, my siblings and I rarely had the chance to be close to our father, as he served in the military. He would come home only a few times a year, and sometimes not at all during the Tet holiday. When he did come back, the house would become livelier—more bánh chưng were made, the sausage grew bigger, and grandmother’s pot of braised meat became fuller. Relatives and neighbors would gather to celebrate and chat longer. Even though my mother was busy in the kitchen, cooking for the Tet holiday, her face always radiated happiness. I was thrilled when I could use my father's bike to practice riding. The heavy bike, painted in a phoenix red, was too large for my small frame, but in just a few days, I mastered riding it, and I proudly showed off my accomplishment to my friends around the village.

As I grew older, I moved far away, building a life in Europe. I married and had children. I would return for short visits, and my father would take me around Hanoi on his motorbike, traveling all the way to Thanh Niên and Hồ Tây roads. He would take me to visit his friends and relatives. Sitting behind my father on the motorbike, I felt like a little girl again, riding behind him on his bicycle, despite the curious looks of strangers along the road.

My husband’s family is large too, with many siblings who live separately. Only my father-in-law and mother-in-law remain in their home. A few days before Tet, if I stayed at home too long, my father-in-law would remind me, 'Go help your grandparents prepare for the New Year.' My hair now has streaks of gray, and my father's once-black hair is now completely silver. Every year, after the first three days of Tet, I would return to my father.

My father-in-law passed away a few years ago. Last year, after preparing for Tet with my younger brother-in-law and his wife, I asked my mother-in-law if I could go home for New Year's Eve. This was something I had longed for. That evening, my younger brother and I traveled from Bắc Ninh to Hanoi to celebrate the New Year's Eve with my father.

I saw the happiness in my father's eyes! Just before the New Year, a torrential downpour began, with loud thunder and lightning—a very unusual weather phenomenon. I said, 'It's raining because I'm here with you to welcome the New Year, Dad.' He lovingly tapped my forehead and said, 'It’s not just me who is happy, but even the heavens are touched, my daughter!'

My father often walked these streets on New Year's Eve. He, a soldier who had fought in both the French and American wars, witnessed the brutal 12-day and night battle of the Dien Bien Phu airstrike over Hanoi’s skies. For him, these moments were incredibly precious and sacred. He said, 'This New Year’s Eve is truly special, isn’t it, daughter?' I leaned my head on his arm, feeling warmth and peace.

On the morning of the first day of the New Year, I rode behind my younger brother as we returned to Bắc Ninh. The streets of Hanoi were quiet and calm, marking the start of the new year. In my heart, I could hear the joyful song, 'Never has a day been as beautiful as today...'

In life, there are simple moments that bring immense value. These moments will remain beautiful memories in our hearts forever!

This year, the world has been struggling with the COVID-19 pandemic. Back home, floods and storms have ravaged the land, and it has been a year of great loss and hardship. Several European countries, including Germany, the Netherlands, and parts of Italy and England, have imposed nationwide lockdowns. In the face of these disasters and diseases, many people have joined together to share the burden. We all strive to overcome these challenges in every way, putting our trust in the better things ahead. Everything will pass, and peace will return as long as we have unwavering faith.

Christmas is just around the corner, and the New Year is coming soon. Everywhere, from the town square to shopping malls, and even the windows of high-rise buildings, the streets are glowing with colorful Christmas lights. I wish everyone a peaceful, warm Christmas and a New Year filled with health, prosperity, and good fortune!

Outside the city, the endless green forest of pine trees stands strong, their branches reaching up high in the freezing cold. Snow falls thickly, with white flakes swirling like countless petals, like peach blossoms and swallows of spring from my homeland...

Father, I will come back for the New Year!

Collected

Without Grandma, the sun doesn't gently coax the flowers to bloom, the sky is unbearably bright, and the once lush betel vine trellis she tended is now withered, struggling along the wall, its green past fading like the fleeting passage of time, as though it is calling, 'Grandma...!' I stand dumbfounded by the gate where I once eagerly waited for her return from the fields at the end of the day. Now, moss thrives on the gate, while the shadow of time casts its dark hue upon it.

Back then, the midday sun beamed cheerfully, accompanied by dragonflies fluttering about. The trees stood still, not even a leaf rustling in the heat. The earth underfoot curved gently, absorbing the sun's rays. Even the sparrows had quieted, hiding away without their usual chattering. The summer breeze curled, seeking refuge in the shade, whispering its story... In the fields, Grandma still labored tirelessly, weeding the rice. Fish and shrimp had stopped swimming around, hiding in the dirt, away from the scorching sun.

The sun lowered in the sky, its rays piercing through the rice stalks, burning the back of my head and weighing down my shoulders. The smell of mud rose from the fields, as if silently wishing for a good harvest. Grandma would pause for a moment to rest under the grove of bamboo at the edge of the village, seeking refuge from the sun's rays. The wide open sky and the distant clouds seemed endless... My Grandma, like all mothers in the village, worked diligently day and night, caring for her family. Thanks to her sacrifices, our lives today are what they are, all due to her nurturing and guidance.

My childhood wasn't like that of many others. From the age of four, I had to live away from my parents. It seemed as though the heavens understood this and made up for my loss by allowing me to live joyfully and happily with my grandparents. The image of Grandma has left a deep mark on my memory and in my heart. Sometimes, when I miss her, I still call out, 'Grandma...!'

I remember those lazy summer afternoons when I would nap to the faint scent of betel that Grandma had chewed. The cool breeze from her pandan leaf fan mixed with the lullaby she sang. Ầu ơ… There's a stork, a white heron, in the folk song, falling into the pond because it landed on a soft branch...

As I grew, I continued to hear Grandma's lullabies. I remember how she would bend down to the stove in the winter mornings, where the embers would warm the potatoes and cassava she roasted for me. Her voice echoed from the kitchen, calling me up the stairs, through the narrow gaps in the wooden slats, until it reached the room where I curled up in my warm blanket. Like a little kitten, I would stretch and rush to her side.

There was one time when I went with her to weed the rice fields. Amid the rain showers, she pointed to the sky and said, 'Look, there's a rainbow! Make a wish, dear, and as you grow older, it will come true!' I replied softly, 'I want to build a big, beautiful house for you when I grow up.'

Grandma laughed and said, 'Oh, you naughty child, when you're grown, I won’t be around for you to build me a house…' She scolded me lovingly, then smiled with happiness at my innocent words. Another time, after a hot summer day in the fields, she returned with a towel draped around her neck, soaked in sweat. I followed her to the pond, watching as she scooped cool water from under the palm trees. Her face was still flushed from the sun. I wished I could take away the heat for her, even if just a little.

Now, as I arrive at the village entrance, everything feels emptier without Grandma. The village road seems quieter. I miss the smell of the betel leaf she chewed, the lime she applied to the leaves. Her black headscarf, her worn brown coat, which she would always bring out to dye in the pond each spring, year after year. She never bought anything for herself, always saving for her children and grandchildren. I still remember her fondly, scolding me, 'Oh, you brat, does this shirt fit? Is the food good?' I can still picture her, frail, carrying the rice seedlings, and the spirit of spring with her as she walked through the fading afternoon sun.

Summer has returned to my homeland, spreading across the golden fields, as I remember the hammock where Grandma used to lull me to sleep. I can still feel the longing of the season, mingled with the memories of the past. My heart aches with love, my eyes a little teary, missing Grandma, who has been gone for so long. I rushed to the riverbank where Grandma would take me to fly kites in the summer evenings. The river still flows, but it feels different now.

The river seems to mourn, its water reflecting the sadness in my heart... I hurried back to Grandma's old house. The rainwater tank is still there, but where is the sweet, cool breeze of a summer afternoon? Without Grandma, even the palm trees, which once swayed, seem reluctant to flower. The once-lush betel vine trellis is now withered, struggling against the wall, as if calling out for Grandma...!

I stand in the gateway, where I once waited for Grandma to return from the fields. The moss has overrun the gate, its green giving way to the darker shadows of time. Life gave me a grandmother and a love for summer like no other. We walked through life together, but why couldn't we walk to the very end together? When 'a death is a duty,' we are still missing one another... Grandma, oh Grandma!

I hold in my hands the summer of Grandma... She carried my childhood summer with her, and now all that's left is the love that remains...

Lê Minh

Childhood Days.
When little feet first yearn to stand and explore, mom watches from afar, cheering as the child stumbles with each wobbly step. Slowly. Toppling over. The child bursts into tears. Mom smiles gently, comforting them. The world seemed vast and full of colors, yet all of it was wrapped in the warmth of mom’s love. The toy car, disassembled by the child, had pieces scattered across the house. Mom quietly cleaned up after the child had fallen asleep. The messy picture drawn by the child, with mom, dad, the child, and older brother, depicted people vaguely, tall and awkward like sticks, in a funny, comic way. Mom colored alongside the child. The child painted a green hairstyle and barefoot legs. Mom smiled, stroking the child's head, 'You draw so beautifully, my child.'

Years Passed.
That little one is now a first grader, looking smart in his blue pants and white shirt. The primary school near home, where mom walked the child to school. The teacher with silver hair stood at the door, greeting the child with a warm smile, welcoming them into a new world. A world without mom and dad. A world without the marble jar and the toy robot. A world filled only with books, pens, and classmates. 'Mom, Tom from the neighborhood is in the same class as me. Mom, Lan, Aunt Chu’s daughter, sits in front of me.' Soon the child got used to school, running around after classes, their shirt drenched in sweat after playing tag. The child excitedly showed off a perfect test score to mom and dad, always asking to go to the park for ice cream or to buy a new comic book. On days when the child felt down, with a sad and drooping face, mom would comfort and reassure them. The child said, 'Quang, the skinny one, looked at my paper and scored higher than me, mom.' Then, tearfully, they ran to their room, skipping lunch, which included their favorite scrambled eggs. The older brother told mom, 'Let him cry, don’t go in. What kind of boy is so soft like a girl?' The child was silent. In those immature thoughts, in those invisible fragments, the child could not understand anything except for the fleeting sadness.

Then came adolescence. The child became temperamental, irritable over trivial things. Mom and dad occasionally argued, having differing opinions. The child retreated into their iPod headphones, living in the overwhelming emotions that flooded in with the sweet melodies. The best friend from class came over every day. The older brother teased, saying the child had already fallen for someone. The child didn’t respond, instead cycling off to extra lessons. In the year of exams, the child stayed up late every night, studying until two or three in the morning. Mom couldn’t sleep, tossing and turning in bed, then getting up to make instant noodles. The hot bowl, the fragrance of fried onions, gave the child energy for each page of their notebooks. At the end of the month, the child asked mom for money to pay for the review class. The crinkled bills carried the familiar scent of sweat. The child overheard mom telling dad that their business had suffered that year, and the older brother’s monthly expenses for his studies away from home were almost ten million. The child didn’t say a word. From then on, the child just focused on studying.

The University Acceptance Letter.
The mailman stood at the door, handing over a parcel addressed to the child. Dad read the good news aloud with a hearty laugh, 'This kid actually did well.' Mom suddenly cried, silently, but her tears were ones of happiness, as the youngest child had been accepted to the university nearby. The child chose to study education, telling mom and dad that becoming a teacher had been a childhood dream. But in reality, the child didn’t want to burden them with more money worries, so they wouldn’t have to fret again. The four years at university, the child worked part-time to support themselves. Tutoring, waitressing, handing out flyers, and even making coffee – the child had experienced it all. Life began to drift away from the loving gaze and embrace of mom and dad. On late nights, the child came home after mom and dad had already fallen asleep. Alone, the child wrestled with the frustrations of their unreasonable boss at the coffee shop. The child would fall asleep in a moment, unaware of mom’s figure peering in from the doorway. Her silver hair fluttered slightly, and sadness filled her eyes as she watched her son sleeping, his back familiar, yet distant.

Delayed Salary This Month.
An abrupt email from the boss made the staff groan in frustration. The night shift seemed unusually heavy, and fatigue set in. Despite years of hard work, the child hadn’t achieved the position others had. Just another office worker, going to work in the morning and returning home at night, working eight hours like a robot, with no savings. The motorcycle, bought fresh out of college, was now eight years old. Last week, the child took it to the shop for an oil change. The mechanic said the bike was in bad shape, and that it wouldn’t last much longer. The child nodded, forcing a smile. Everyone else had gotten married, had families, and were doing well. Tom, the classmate from primary school, was now the director of a famous candy import-export company in Da Nang. The child had long since gotten used to meals at the local street food shop. The soup was bland, with oily bubbles, not like the savory fish soup mom used to make – rich, with a sour bamboo shoot flavor and the sweetness of fatty fish.

Winter arrived, and the cold wind howled through the gap at the eaves of the rented room. The child bought a train ticket home to visit. Mom stood waiting at the gate, her thin shoulders shaking with happiness at the reunion. The child gazed at her for a while, feeling a vague reflection of their childhood. The many wrinkles on mom’s face were the result of the years of worry and struggles she had endured while the child was away building a career. The child felt immense love for mom. Mom asked about work, and the child poured out their heart. The man before mom was still the same child, naive and pitiful. Mom hugged the child, resting her head on her shoulder, where the warmth remained unchanged despite the many years of hardship and storms of life. Mom stroked the child’s head and reassured, 'You’re fine. Life is like drifting clouds and flowing water, and fame and fortune quickly fade with time. The most important thing is to live honorably, to be true to yourself, and to never betray your own conscience. Life is fair – no one takes everything, and no one is given anything for free. Just strive with all your might, and that’s enough, my child.'

Mom patted the child’s head, their hair messy and dusted from the journey. And look, there, at the corner of the cupboard, the old battery-operated toy robot quietly lay in the corner, forgotten.

Author: Kì Phong

"No matter how far I may go,
Don’t forget the rural village, the smoke from the kitchen, and the garden at home."

How could I ever forget the place where I was born and raised, how could I forget the fields of my hometown, where the rice sways in the breeze. Every evening, my mother would light the stove, sending columns of smoke swirling into the dusk. I miss the warm family meals that we shared, with both my parents and all six siblings gathered around the table. Although the meals were simple, often consisting of nothing more than tomato sauce, salted vegetables, herbs, and gourds and squashes picked from the garden, they were always flavorful and satisfying. Even now, I cherish those memories.

Back then, we lived in a thatched house, small but full of love, and we always made sure to have our meals in the most respected part of the house. The old aluminum tray was the most valuable possession we had, given to my parents by my grandparents when they moved out to live on their own. There was no clock in the house, so we would gauge mealtimes by the position of the sun. When the shadow of the house fell almost straight across the roof, it was time to eat. The eldest would lift the rice pot, someone else would carry the soup pot, and another sibling would spoon out some of the golden-colored soy sauce that mother had prepared, while pickled vegetables sat in a jar by the door, ready to be served. This was how we set the table, simple yet fulfilling, always enough for everyone.

Though we didn’t have much, we always followed the rules, and we wouldn’t begin eating until everyone was present. If father or mother were late, the food would be saved for them. Father always taught us to "eat with respect, sit properly, and honor others," emphasizing that meals were not just for nourishment but also a place for education in ethics, living, and interpersonal relationships. Family meals became a cultural tradition in our household.

I still vividly remember the golden afternoons when mother went to the market and came home with a bit of meat and tofu. The smell of fried onions would fill the air, and we would hover by the kitchen, waiting eagerly for mealtime. When it was time to eat, mother would serve father first, then pass portions to us siblings, but never taking any for herself. Father, in turn, would pass his portion to mother’s plate. We all took turns serving each other. Our meals were filled with the warmth of laughter and love.

On some days, the pickled vegetables would be too sour after sitting too long, and mother would cook them with pork fat, turning the pieces of eggplant a dark, crisp brown. She would say, "Today we’re having dried beef." My younger siblings would clap and laugh. Such small, simple joys, but they are treasures I’ve yet to find elsewhere in life.

Occasionally, friends of father’s would visit, and he would invite them to stay for a meal with the family. Mother would cleverly divide the meal into two parts, one for the guests, served on the bed, and the other for us, the family, eaten at the kitchen table. The guest meal was modest, usually just a plate of fried eggs, a dish of roasted peanuts, and a small bowl of fresh vegetables. My younger siblings would always try to climb up to sit with father, and mother would have to gently coax them down. Father was used to "saving his appetite for guests," so when the meal was served, he would only eat a little, saving the rest for us, his children, to have the best portions after the guests left.

There were times when it was almost dinnertime, but father and mother were still busy with work. My siblings and I would sit around the table, waiting for them. The eldest sister would whisper, "Let’s eat sparingly so there will be enough for father and mother tomorrow, since we’re almost out of rice." Father overheard and told her not to say such things, reminding us, "The younger ones need to eat well to grow big and strong." That night, we only had a small serving, but father and mother insisted that we were full. I’m not sure if it was just the wind, but I could swear I saw mother’s eyes tear up as she smiled. That night, father stayed awake, smoking his pipe throughout the night...

Now, life is better, and our family no longer worries about having enough food to eat. But I will always remember the old ways, the warmth of those meals, and the lessons they taught us. I’ve come to understand that happiness doesn’t have to be searched for far and wide – it’s found in simple family meals. I now realize why those humble meals tasted so good – they were cooked with love, care for every family member, and seasoned with the spice of affection.

Lê Thị Ngọc Lan

Only now have I come to realize that time can only turn me into an adult, living in the vast world out there, but in the embrace of my parents, I will forever be a child.

How much have our parents suffered?

"Mom, in two days, it's time to pay my tuition."

"Okay... okay, I know, let me ask a few more people."

These are the typical words I hear in monthly phone calls with my mother, simple but heartbreaking. I once thought life was easy until I found out that my parents had to work overtime just to gather enough money to pay for my school fees.

In the past, I never understood why my parents worked so hard every day but would smile when they came home to see us. But now I realize that for them, I am the source of energy that helps them recharge. No matter the difficulties they faced at work, they didn’t want to bring any negativity home. It was only when I moved away to study that I understood, even though they ate frugal meals and struggled to make ends meet, they never let me feel deprived. In winter, despite the cold, my parents only had a few sets of clothes but bought me a lot of warm clothing, fearing I might suffer from the chill.

Now, every time I call them and hear, "When will you come home?" I realize how much older they’ve become. What they long for now is just to wait for me to return. As children, we all wished to grow up quickly to go anywhere, but once we become adults, we understand that home is the safest and most peaceful place.

There will come a time when our parents can no longer hold our hands and guide us to places we want to go, or be there to comfort us when we are sad. What they can do is silently support us, no matter how harsh the world treats us. They will never change their attitude toward us. We must love and share with them – the ones who will never abandon us.

It’s easy to feel shy about expressing affection toward our parents, but what happens if one day you no longer have the chance to do so? For some, life is consumed by work and external relationships, and only when their parents are no longer around do they regret not showing them more love. But is it worth regretting only after they’re gone? Money, fame, or anything else cannot surpass the priceless love of family. So no matter how busy you are with studies or work, don’t forget to spend time with your parents. Don’t wait until you no longer have the chance to be with them, only to feel regret – it will be too late then.

Even if life is harsh, if your parents are still standing strong, what excuse do you have for not trying?

*If you’re ever too tired, come home to your parents!

Only now have I come to realize that time can only turn me into an adult, living in the vast world out there, but in the embrace of my parents, I will forever be a child.

One day, I came home from work and saw over 10 missed calls from my mother. Despite being very upset, I forced myself to call her back.

"Hello, Mom, there’s just a small issue at work, I’m fine."

"Okay, whatever you’re doing, just remember to take care of your health, okay?"

"I know, Mom."

"If you’re really tired, come home to us!"

I tried to hold back my tears, but as soon as the call ended, I broke down. I had only intended to reassure her, but hearing her comforting voice was more than I could handle. When I was at home, I thought that eating a simple meal of rice, vegetables, and meat was nothing special. But when I went to Hanoi for my studies, eating in various restaurants, I never found a flavor as comforting as the meals Mom used to cook.

If you’ve never lived away from home, how could you understand the unique taste of a family meal? If you’ve never been far from home, how could you know the true meaning of maturity? Only when you grow up do you realize that the true value of Tet (Lunar New Year) is the time you get to spend more with your family.

Our parents never outwardly show how much they love us, because their love is always silent. They silently sacrifice their whole lives for us, quietly rejoice in our growth, and endure hardships without ever complaining.

In the world out there, people may only care about your social status, and may even turn their back on you for their own interests. But no matter what happens, your parents will always be by your side. Whether you succeed or fail, home will always be there for you. Only the love of family can provide the sense of security that no one else can give.

I hope that after reading this, you’ll go home and tell your parents you love them.

Author: Dương Hạnh