Top 10 Most Beautiful Short Essays about August

The intense summer heat cannot overpower the gentle breeze of autumn approaching. The wind is soft and cool, bringing a sense of comfort. Among the breeze, there's a fragrance of earth, grass, autumn leaves, and flowers. Autumn is on its way. We know this when we unexpectedly catch a glimpse of a clear sky or a fleeting sunbeam full of charm. In those moments, our hearts feel unexpectedly calm. As autumn arrives, we become more peaceful within ourselves.

August weaves through the narrow streets with ancient rooftops, bringing back familiar feelings hidden beneath the worries of daily life. I wander alone, remembering the past, strolling through each alley. Regardless of the weather, whether it's a sudden rainstorm or gentle winds, I seek out the lingering echoes of old emotions. Autumn has not arrived, and summer is not yet gone. My feelings, too, are in a state of transition, like the changing weather. One moment, I'm happy, the next, I'm sad. Like when the sun suddenly gives way to rain, or the heat is interrupted by a cool breeze, much like the mid-season change. The world shifts, but it seems time doesn't affect our feelings. It's as if time stands still before the existence of these old streets, untouched by change.

August bursts with energy. Like a cocoon, I awaken from a deep, endless sleep, gradually emerging, smiling with the sunrise. I feel a sense of regret for letting time pass aimlessly. But now, I stand up, lift my head high, and proudly face life. August feels youthful, full of vitality. I return to my plans, dreams, and work that I had neglected. It feels like I've broken free from the cocoon, transforming into a beautiful butterfly. My passion remains intact.

August is full of love. I discover that true happiness is simple. It lies in innocent eyes, carefree smiles, small hands, in everything I do, think, and feel. The breeze, the sun, the rain, the grass, the flowers—they all evoke love. I realize that love exists in every corner of life. It flows from the quiet corners of the street to the fleeting moments of daily routine. Love remains constant, present in our hearts and in every fleeting glance and touch.

August is thoughtful. I quietly gather my emotions, storing them carefully, sorting through my worries and decisions. I hide my sorrow, letting my feelings float with the passing days. While the world is busy, I find peace in the silence, in the glowing candles that flicker softly. I hide in the unexpected rain and the chill of autumn winds. I wait for a day when I can take out these emotions, polishing and shining them as if they had never faded with time. They remain pure and fresh, just like the day they were born.

This morning, the rain marked the beginning of a gentle August breeze. Summer is fading, making way for the calm embrace of autumn, as memories intertwined with time begin to resurface. August arrives, bringing with it nostalgia and emotions full of love.

As I passed by the neighbor's house this afternoon, the scent of the *Thi* tree lingered in the air, gently calling out to passersby. Its fragrance, so familiar yet so rare, reminded me of the essence of my homeland. In rural areas, the *Thi* tree still stands as a symbol of seasonal change. Unlike many other regions, this tree remains significant, providing both shade and fruit. The ripe yellow *Thi* fruits peek out shyly from the green leaves, proudly showing off their bright yellow hue, speckled with small green spots. It's curious how just a few ripe fruits can fill the entire road with their sweet fragrance. I paused, took a deep breath, and cherished that familiar scent, storing it in my heart. It had been so long since I felt the pure sweetness of this homegrown scent!

August, when the harvest season is over, and the peanut crop is also reaped, farmers don't allow themselves to rest, as they must prepare for the next season. Their shoulders bear the weight of firewood, as they head to the market. The sweat that falls from their brows mixes with the dust in the air, while life in the countryside continues on. They hustle to earn enough for the children's school fees.

August's weather becomes unpredictable. One moment it's sunny, the next, rain comes pouring down. It’s a bit of a rollercoaster, with the sun and rain constantly switching places. My mother reminds me to always carry an umbrella wherever I go. This afternoon, while riding my bike, a sudden downpour drenched me. The rain hit my face and skin, leaving a cold, refreshing sensation. I let myself fully experience the rain, feeling like a child again, caught in a warm downpour. People around me complained about the rain, but some elderly folks sipped their tea and calmly remarked, 'The weather is about to shift to early autumn.' When the rain stopped, the sun came out again, and the wind, free and unrestrained, swept through, leaving behind a shimmering rainbow.

The August sun feels gentle and kind. It casts a soft golden glow, unlike the harsh sun of June and July. The late afternoon sunlight is especially beautiful, spreading across the countryside, wrapping everything in its tender embrace. But as the last rays of sunlight fade away, leaving a soft warmth, the cool breeze of autumn sweeps in, carrying with it the essence of fall. The streetlights begin to flicker on, and as I pass a small tea stall, I notice fewer customers today.

In August, the children eagerly prepare for the new school year. The expressions on the faces of students, who have just completed their university entrance exams, are filled with anticipation. It is no surprise to anyone that in this rural area, the rate of university acceptance is surprisingly high. But the joy is tempered with concern. When the results are in, the question on every parent's mind is, 'Where will we find the money for the child to study far from home?' The mix of joy and worry is clear on the parents' faces, making the children hesitate. Indeed, the experience of university in the countryside is quite different from the city, where it’s not just about the joy of acceptance.

August has arrived, quietly moving through the small alleys, bringing with it the bittersweet mixture of joy and sorrow. It carries the love and emotions of erratic weather, and gently ushers in a peaceful August.

As August arrives, people look forward to small gatherings at cozy cafés, sharing light-hearted conversations as golden leaves gently fall on the streets. The sound of a piano drifting from a window adds a delicate touch, stirring the heart with gentle nostalgia. The changing of seasons pulls on the heartstrings, evoking memories of what has passed—of people who’ve left, of old wounds, and of empty spaces that are yet to be filled.

When August comes, the streets no longer carry the vibrant red of *Flamboyant* flowers, nor the dreamy purple of *Lagerstroemia* blossoms. The heavy rains of June and July are behind us.

August brings with it a slight shift in the air, where the sun’s heat becomes milder and the breeze softer. The gentle sunlight filters through the white clouds, drifting with the wind. The warmth of summer lingers but is now a more subtle presence, offering just a hint of autumn's approach. The breeze carries memories, playfully sweeping through tangled hair, as the heart seeks the days long gone.

August brings romantic shades of falling golden leaves, the scent of fresh rice cakes wrapped in lotus leaves, and the clear expanse of the sky. It also carries the nervous energy of people and families preparing for a new school year, as children and grandchildren get ready for a new beginning.

August has arrived, bidding farewell to the intense heat of late summer and embracing the gentle emotions of early autumn. The streets feel quieter, and the crowds move slower, with no rush as in the summer, nor the coldness of winter. The city seems at peace, with people walking at a leisurely pace, lost in the gentle rhythm of the moment. Unconsciously, we feel a stirring in our hearts, as love quietly weaves through our veins, urging us to forgive and embrace.

As August settles in, people still await those quiet moments at small cafés, sharing stories while golden leaves fall gently around them. The piano’s distant sound stirs a deep emotional connection, reminding us of the fleeting moments and people who’ve slipped away from our lives.

In August, the early days of autumn bring a gentle sadness, a distant yearning. The soft, drifting clouds seem to disappear into light showers that fall gently, not enough to soak the clothes but leaving droplets on someone’s hair, like morning dew. The unexpected autumn rain stirs feelings of melancholy, a quiet restlessness that lingers in the air. Somewhere, someone pauses, brushing off a few golden leaves from their shoulder, looking up to the sun filtering through the trees, and smiles softly, before merging into the crowd once again.

Thank you, August, and thank you, autumn, for gifting us moments of self-reflection. For giving us time to make small wishes, ponder thoughts of the future, and fill us with a desire to love, be loved, and find our own little happiness.

Goodbye, August, and to the early autumn days...

"Is August’s autumn here, with the leaves turning yellow?"

The poetic lyrics of the song *“Is It You, Autumn of Hanoi?”* linger in my heart each time autumn arrives. As the breeze carries the fragrance of milk flowers through Hanoi’s streets, the traveler within me becomes lost in the embrace of memories...

As a traveler, I always seek a journey “back” to Hanoi when autumn graces the city. For me, “August” is not just a marker of time but a symbol of the autumn season. Whether it’s August, September, or October, as long as Hanoi is filled with the cool breeze and the scent of milk flowers, the essence of “August” lives on in my heart.

Tomorrow, upon waking, I’ll feel the scent of fresh grass surrounding me. The sky will be clear, and the autumn sunlight will bathe the streets in a golden glow. There is nothing better than enjoying a cup of coffee in the Old Quarter, listening to an old melody, and soaking in the atmosphere of autumn. The “36 streets” are changing colors with the season. The golden leaves cover Kim Ma, Nguyen Tri Phuong, Hoang Hoa Tham, Phan Dinh Phung, and Tran Phu streets, as beautiful as Korea.

I love Hanoi, a love as delicate as a first love, untouched by time, and preserved in my heart despite all the ups and downs. It’s a love that cannot be explained, much like the love the poet To Nhu Chau felt when writing a poem that composer Tran Quang Loc later turned into a song that captured hearts. Few people know that neither of them ever set foot in… Hanoi!

I love the crisp, cool breeze that just wraps enough to make you grab a thin jacket but brings souls closer together. These gentle winds also carry the clear fragrances of autumn. The sweet smell of guavas mixes with the morning breeze, and the scent of milk flowers lingers in every street corner.

I love the street vendors weaving through Hanoi’s alleys. Sometimes their “flower carts” are filled with vibrant roses, or pure white daisies that make people yearn for memories. Other times, their baskets overflow with autumn treats: young green rice from Vong village, fragrant guavas from Dong Du, soft Xuân Đỉnh persimmons, eggfruit, bananas, and aromatic Tấm persimmons… Their cheerful calls and radiant smiles bring life to the streets.

I love the cool evenings, walking along Nguyen Du or Quang Trung streets, inhaling the strong fragrance of milk flowers. Under those trees, many first kisses and soft hand-holding moments have occurred. The pure love of youth, as fleeting as the morning mist, comes and goes… leaving behind beautiful memories of youth.

I cherish moments with friends, sipping lemon tea while chatting along Church Street, then hopping from one eatery to another to taste all the delicious dishes—crunchy shrimp cakes, pickled sour plums, green rice cakes, crispy West Lake shrimp cakes, grilled pork vermicelli, and more. These culinary delights have left a permanent mark on Hanoi’s food scene.

I also treasure the moments when I see a Hanoi girl, dressed in a white Ao Dai, holding a bouquet of white daisies and capturing the beauty of youth in a perfect photo. When honey-colored sunlight fills the streets, couples take the most romantic wedding photos, starting their journey together in life.

Perhaps there are thousands of small, simple loves that I have for my beloved capital. Hanoi’s autumn holds a tender, romantic charm that can’t be found anywhere else, making those who leave it yearn for it. Autumn here may be fleeting, but it leaves an indelible mark on the heart. These memories will always echo: *“Are you the autumn of Hanoi? With years of wandering, we continue to seek. Oh, autumn of our dreams…”*

Collected

In August, the sky is clear, and the sunlight is as pure as the eyes of a 15-year-old girl!

The first autumn breeze stirs the air, sweeping away the last traces of summer's heat. Suddenly, a golden leaf falls gently, brushing against the shoulder, softly hinting that autumn is drawing near...

And the wind... each cool breeze flows through the sky and trees, carrying with it the scent of flowers that penetrates the soul, deeply!

The rich aroma of the earth, the fragrance of grass, flowers, and life itself blends together like a timeless gift from nature, as if the universe reserved this moment just for me on this first autumn morning!

Remembering autumn... when I was a child... autumn was playful, a little spoiled when my mother laughed, took a break from work; when she went to the market and my older sister shared snacks, pieces of sesame candy or sweetened peanut brittle... I loved how my sister saved the last piece of sugarcane for me after she had given all the good parts to the younger siblings... The fragrant fruit that bent with ripeness was still so delightful! We would weave those fruits into a swing, and spend the whole afternoon playing with them, savoring their sweet flavors...

Autumn would feel incomplete if it were just this... (...)

We will encounter our own unique autumn in the sweetness of nature and the hearts of people, full of fragrance!

The plump jackfruit, hanging heavy above, stubbornly resisting the heat, waiting to burst open with a sweet fragrance, ready to share its scent with the eager eyes of those beneath it. Perhaps it won’t be long before the warm sunlight mingles with the air, allowing the ripe fruits to bloom with a sweet smile on the faces of friends and family who enjoy the flavor of the garden!

And every morning on my way to school, I would catch the pure gaze of a 12-year-old child, filled with affection! In the evening, I would return to the familiar home, where flowers were in full bloom, and fresh vegetables were gifted by someone when I wasn’t there... And there was always a loving smile when I noticed how clean the house was, though I remembered I hadn’t had time to tidy up in the morning. A bit of doubt would stir, and I’d feel a little emotional, remembering my caring mother who often came to visit, checking on things...

Autumn...

Thinking of the dear friends... They bring to life sweet feelings of friendship, human connection, and the profound beauty of nature, life...

The sunlight captures the bright smiles of friends reuniting after a long time; the wind quietly stirs within us when we receive a small gift or a postcard from a friend...

Everything is beautiful and pure, like that white lotus blooming at the end of summer!

Autumn... whether the sunlight is golden and sweet or the rain soaks through our clothes, it remains the season of gentle sweetness to me!

Wait for the sun to rise, let the autumn breeze bring peace, and the scent of the earth and sky will merge with our hearts, tenderly!

Welcome August, the historic and heroic autumn!

Embracing a season full of beauty, elegance, and overflowing love and emotions.

Minh Tâm

The beginning of August this year arrived with a heavy thunderstorm. Unlike the light drizzle, this storm washed the trees, grass, and fruits in an instant. The storm cleared some of the gloomy air that had lingered as the whole country was fighting against the pandemic. Though the storm passed, the scent of rain lingered in the air, bringing with it a chill of early autumn, just enough to evoke a deep, tender memory of a distant autumn in years past...

"Has the autumn of August arrived, with yellowing leaves? The moment when people leave, their love silently lingers...". Could August and autumn be inseparable companions? Or are they simply the image of sorrowful separation? It’s hard to say for sure, but once the last page of July fades, it seems like the world outside changes overnight. The same village, the same field, just the day before the sun’s golden rays scattered, casting a warm glow on every winding alley. A few dragonflies lazily hovered near the village pond, the only one nestled among the wild fields. Occasionally, they would fly high into the open space, hidden away in a secluded corner for a quiet moment. A little boy left his herd of cows grazing to wander along the narrow path, not knowing what he was searching for. Suddenly, his foot slipped into the water, rippling out and blurring his reflection. And now? Where did everything go? All that remains is the stillness of everything, listening to the sound of rain falling softly. The delicate raindrops danced on every leaf, falling only when they couldn’t cling any longer, sharing their coolness with the thirsty, dry grass. The rain in the fields didn’t quite match the melancholic tune of early autumn. Instead, it headed to the rooftops, singing and dancing, resonating through every tin roof in a symphony of sound. And so, August begins… a bittersweet start, gently placing memories on the fragile autumn branches...

He no longer starts at the changing of seasons as he did many years ago. Has he grown old? Or has autumn itself changed its nature? Perhaps neither. He and the autumn of August have merged into one. Gentle and calm. Solitary, yet not cold or sorrowful. A fleeting encounter with that autumn girl from years ago still fills him, overflowing with longing. Her smile, her gaze, she seduced him into abandoning his old, worn coat, leaving him intoxicated. Her small hands, slender like a golden chrysanthemum, adjusting his white shirt collar. A gentle breeze outside whispered, inviting him into a dreamlike world. How could he not remember her eyes hidden in the stillness of autumn? The songs that echoed by the misty West Lake? Wasn’t he moved by the sight of autumn from afar? The calmest heart is one when all the longing is scattered, breaking apart. Yes, maybe someone else might shiver when they hear the whispering wind, or feel nostalgic hearing an autumn tune on the radio from their student days filled with dreams, or catch a glimpse of someone holding a red rose, smiling. Could he say he wasn’t moved? The light rain still floats in his mind. The tiny droplets carried away thoughts he couldn’t suppress, gradually soaking into his heart. Autumn in the city was fading, but its song still lingered in his ears with the nostalgic tune of "Hanoi in autumn, with yellowing wild tamarind trees, and the red leaves of the plane tree lying next to old streets and homes with dark brown tiles…"

The past August returned in the poignant, transparent verse of youthful memories:
"August’s autumn arrived with deep green eyes
And hesitant rain sowed memories for the soul
The schoolyard echoed with cicadas, leaving behind a lingering sadness
And the green sprouts began to appear."

The hectic summer was about to end with the pandemic almost behind us, and now the young students eagerly awaited their return to school. The days of studying and playing resumed, with the pure sunshine greeting the new school year. Friends reunited, sharing stories and laughter, excited and a bit shy to meet someone they secretly loved. The joy of seeing friends again, mixed with the anticipation of being back in the sunny autumn schoolyard.

The dreamy hearts of seventeen-year-olds soared high on the green plane trees, and their hearts seemed to float in the endless autumn sky. And this morning, he unknowingly crossed paths with the little girl next door, her eyes glistening as she read some heartfelt verses:

"August’s autumn is shy
Will the pomegranate flowers fade the promises we made?
Summer is walking away
The only path now is covered in golden leaves."

In his hometown, the autumn of August brought no blooming yellow chrysanthemums, no fragrant milk flowers, but the steady rain morning and evening stirred something in his soul. Autumn was both close and far away. Warm and cold. Restless yet full of life. The two halves of autumn met, filling each other's void. Even in the constant drizzle, he could still sense the distant sunlight beckoning. The rain seemed never to be lonely or cold; it was always the same, refreshing everything around it, singing its soft, lingering tune.

Lost in the melody of early autumn, he was suddenly interrupted by a message:

"The milk flowers are blooming, my dear!
The streets are quiet, and the alleys sleep peacefully
If you look back, you’ll see
The green hair of the moon softly glowing.
Returning the meaning of the moon, tearing apart the sail
While the swallows’ wings turn violet
Don’t look at me with that proud gaze
Autumn will come and go…"

"Yes, autumn has come, and it will pass…" he sighed, life goes on, "You can’t step in the same river twice," everything will pass… He knew this, but still, something stirred within him when he read those faraway verses…

How could he hide his emotions from autumn? The scent of autumn is gentle. Its colors evoke memories. The rain is in harmony with the soul. Autumn is full of passion. Could he calm his heart? The rain continues to fall for days in his hometown, and his heart echoes every raindrop. Among all those raindrops, there is one… one raindrop that never shatters, sparkling on a red maple leaf… this raindrop once fell gently on his lips; this raindrop he once cradled in his palm, nurturing dreams of autumn. This raindrop, only he and the autumn of August understand… only he and the autumn of August share this gentle memory, whispered on the fragile branches of autumn.

Nguyễn Đình Ánh

In August, one cannot help but notice a subtle change in the surroundings, a feeling of something new and different in the air. The once harsh, glaring sunlight has softened, now casting a golden, gentle glow that fills the space with warmth and freshness.

It seems as if autumn has arrived. The fields in my hometown now stretch further, offering a tranquil and serene view, bathed in a soothing shade of green. The sky, too, feels like it's been pulled higher, expanding endlessly in a gentle hue. White clouds, resembling giant cotton rolls, float majestically against the deep blue canvas above. Their beauty captivates the eyes in a way that makes me forget I am standing in the middle of a field. I feel as if I'm drifting with the clouds, momentarily escaping the worries and troubles of life. The breeze, fresh and cool, carries with it a sense of peace as it sweeps through the air. I close my eyes, arms outstretched, embracing the calm as the gentle wind caresses my skin. The smell of wild grass and the essence of the countryside fill my senses, as I lie back on the soft, velvety grass, savoring the pure tranquility that surrounds me.

As autumn settles in, the sweet aroma of ripening guavas wafts through the neighborhood. Over by someone's fence, a guava tree is laden with golden fruit nestled among the green leaves. The scent fills the air, drawing the sparrows to feast on the ripe fruits. Their calls echo as the guavas fall, their skins turning golden, and pieces of the soft pink flesh scatter along the ground. In the garden, the grapefruit tree bears fruit as large as a rice bowl, with the skin stretched tight over the juicy pulp inside. These grapefruits sway gently in the breeze, tempting with their sweetness. Soon enough, they will be plucked and placed alongside other fruits on the Mid-Autumn Festival table, where they will be sliced into juicy, refreshing wedges.

On the streets, autumn arrives quietly, almost without notice. The alleys are carpeted with fallen golden leaves, and the wind stirs the trees, causing the leaves to flutter down like golden confetti. Once they touch the ground, the wind continues to push them into neat piles along the paths, creating golden carpets that stretch along the way. These yellow leaves seem to invoke a sense of sadness, stirring a feeling of loneliness in me. I find myself yearning to hold someone's warm, comforting hand as we walk down this golden path. I recall the lines from Lưu Trọng Lư’s poem:

"Don’t you hear the autumn forest
The leaves rustling in the breeze
The golden deer confused
Walking on the dry yellow leaves?"

In that moment, I feel like the deer, lost and bewildered as I step into autumn, surrounded by the quiet melancholy of the season.

Walking through the golden alley, I turn into a small lane that leads to the dormitory. Above, I hear the buzzing of bees. Looking up, I see that the lộc vừng tree has begun to drop its delicate flowers, swaying gently in the breeze. Bees flit around, collecting nectar, while little sparrows chatter among the leaves. Beneath my feet, red petals fall softly to the ground.

There, a figure strolls down the fragrant autumn path. It seems the girl is also enjoying the changing seasons. She bends down to pick up a fallen red petal, admiring its beauty. Her innocent face softens, and she looks up with a smile that lights up her entire being. Her smile merges with the autumn atmosphere, filling the air with a sense of peace and longing.

Ah, autumn has truly arrived, not only in the countryside but also woven into the very streets of the city. It brings with it a sense of wonder and joy.

Life would be so dull without the changing seasons. Without autumn, the world would lack the charm of transformation and renewal. If we take the time to notice, to appreciate, we will see the beauty in the simplest changes. As I stand in the midst of autumn, I whisper to myself: "Yes, autumn has truly come."

Lê Minh Hải

In the transition from late summer to early autumn, August arrives with a sense of uncertainty, waiting to be embraced with anticipation.

Though the sun has not yet softened enough to signal the beginning of autumn, and the rain has not faded enough to mark the end of summer, August quietly settles in, stirring emotions that drift aimlessly, uncertain whether they are full or empty. It’s often said that August is the season of love, of the sweet scent of milk flowers, and of the cool air that marks the arrival of autumn. But to me, any season feels beautiful as long as my heart is at peace and full of love.

August carries with it the last traces of summer, the warm sunlight that blends into autumn. The gentle breeze stirs memories, leaving my heart in a quiet search for days gone by. August always brings with it a sense of indecision, weaving between dreams and the worries of life. The sunlight in August is gentle and warm, just as it’s always been. But as the last rays of daylight fade, reluctant to leave the branches, the cold breeze sweeps in, carrying the unmistakable hint of autumn’s arrival.

The August rains are never rushed; they fall slowly, persistently, and silently. Somewhere, the wind howls out of season, joining the sound of wind chimes ringing softly. While the world outside is soaked in rain, people rise early to carry on their daily struggles. Meanwhile, I lie in my warm bed, listening to the rain, while they wake up in the dark. Their lives continue, driven by the need to earn their bread. Whenever I feel lost or uncertain, I remind myself to look around. There are countless others striving through the hardships of life, refusing to give up.

As autumn arrives, golden leaves fall gently, marking the end of a life cycle. Those who have left are gone, and those who remain face their own struggles. People say that time heals all wounds, but in reality, time is not a magical cure. It merely helps us grow accustomed to the pain. This gradual acceptance turns the wound into a scar, but the memory of the pain never fully fades.

August remains undeniably beautiful with the shades of autumn. Even though I’ve long grown numb to the emotions, I can still feel a stir when I see the sunlit roads that are not harsh, when I witness the peaceful streets, and the distinct beauty of August’s sky. There’s no one left to fall in love with, no one to miss, but I still find myself longing for someone, or perhaps for the carefree self I once was. I feel the need to pause for a moment, inhaling the scents of the earth, savoring the tranquility. I imagine the years ahead, and place my hand on my chest, seeking calmness in the gentle breeze of August.

August in autumn always brings a sense of wonder to the heart. So, live each moment fully, for when time passes, there will be no regrets. Outside, a soft whisper seems to carry the lyrics of a song: August in autumn, are the leaves turning gold yet?….

Hoàng Nhung

The soft breeze of late afternoon drifts across the small village. August arrives, bringing with it a longing that fills the quiet roads, where the scent of wild grass mingles in the air. I inhale deeply, letting the familiar fragrance of the past transport me back to my childhood, a time that slips away with each passing year. It feels as though the yearning has been quietly hidden amidst the busyness of life, making me forget the ever-present ache of missing home.

August arrives, and the sound of school drums echoes, rekindling memories of youthful innocence. The years have left their mark, silvering my hair with traces of sorrow, yet I still carry the weight of responsibility, while the carefree days of my youth stand still in time. I recall my first day of school, walking through the muddy village road with my older brother carrying me over fields of reeds, joy fading when I saw unfamiliar faces. I cried, missing my mother terribly, wishing to return to her warm embrace. My brother handed me a small piece of candy, its sweet taste still lingering on my lips as he watched me struggle to write my first letters. I left home with memories of longing, caught between the past and the present.

August arrives again, reminding me of the day I packed my bags to move to the city for school. My mother held my hand tightly, repeating, “Study hard, my child.” The days away in a city filled with busy streets and distant faces slowly made me forget the smell of ripe guavas from home. I became absorbed in the vibrant, fast-paced world, forgetting the faces of my aging father, bent over in the yard, and my mother, tirelessly waiting for me at home, dreaming of a future full of possibilities.

As Augusts passed by, I never took the time to look back, as time stretched its shadows, leaving me with a deep ache. I realized the faint voice of my father, and the trembling hands of my mother standing at the doorstep. The dinner table no longer echoed with laughter, and my parents sat in silence, surrounded by the memories of simple meals and love that had nourished me. Parents hope their children will grow up and become strong, only for those same children to leave, leaving behind the empty house and aging parents, waiting for the sound of their footsteps.

On the boat ride back to my village, the water flows gently, soothing my soul, and I reach out to touch the water, feeling the years return to me, just as they were before. The old trees on both sides of the river silently witness the changes in the village, the comings and goings of people. As I walk slowly across the wind-swept embankment, I hold on to the memories of my childhood, the laughter of the past echoing in my mind. The old buffalo lies in the shade, seemingly unaware, as I move forward, carrying the weight of life’s regrets.

August returns, and I walk along the familiar road, my old home standing quietly among the green. I stand by the porch, watching the smoke from the evening fire disappear into the air, listening to the sound of rice cooking in the kitchen, and the ducks quacking in the yard. My eyes sting as I hold my father’s hand, feeling my mother’s weary smile, her wrinkles telling the story of years gone by. I want to cry for the mistakes I made, for the years spent chasing dreams, and for the joy of being with my parents. In their presence, I find peace, without the need for forced smiles or hidden resentments. I bury my face in my mother’s hair, inhaling the familiar scents of her hair oil and my father’s cigarettes, bringing me back to a time I long to remember. I drink a handful of rainwater from the yard, filled with love and nostalgia, and the dinner table is filled with laughter. Sometimes, just being together is enough happiness.

I lie in the hammock, my father telling old stories, and my mother sewing clothes on the porch... I close my eyes and dream of the pure August days of the past.

Nguyễn Chí Ngoan

The autumn breeze arrives, and I wish the air stays this cool and gentle. May it ease the hardships my father faces in his work, and may my mother’s clothes no longer fade from the relentless weather. Let the laughter of children bring light to the weary hearts of parents after a long day of toil.

August, the first month of autumn – the month of transitions. The season brings soft sunlight, slipping through gentle white clouds drifting in the breeze. The summer warmth lingers, but it no longer burns. The cool touch of winter’s approach is felt in the breeze, stirring up memories of days long past. The golden leaves fall, and the green rice fragrance fills the air, carried by the lotus leaves from the countryside.

This is the season of longing, of searching for memories. The red leaves of the sycamore trees fill the landscape, while silence envelops everything. It is the time when children eagerly return to school to start a new year. My mother becomes thinner, carrying heavy burdens on her shoulders, while the rickshaw continues its endless journey through the streets. My father’s shirt is soaked with sweat, his hands calloused from the relentless effort to provide for me as I begin my new school year. There are nights when they come home after the streets have gone quiet, when we children are fast asleep. Yet, sometimes, caught up in play, I forget those moments.

As I grew older and experienced love, I cried, tormented by breakups, feeling as if I couldn’t live without that person. In my selfishness, I forgot the care and concern my parents had always shown. Once again, I was ungrateful. But as time passed, I realized how foolish I had been.

Then I grew up, got married, had children, and became caught in the cycle of life, chasing after daily needs. My parents had grown older, and I realized I had done nothing to repay them for all their sacrifices.

And so life goes on – a cycle. People only regret once it’s too late. We look back and wonder what could have been, but we forget to live well in the present, so we don’t repeat those same mistakes. Especially the younger generation today, who live in material abundance but also in a virtual world, creating a false image of themselves. Some can even end their lives over trivial matters, without realizing the struggles their parents faced to give them a better life. They never pause to appreciate the simple joy of their parents seeing their children grow into good people. Before they could repay them, they added to their parents’ pain, leaving them to mourn the departure of a child too soon.

As autumn returns, may the weather stay this refreshing and cool, easing my father’s burdens in his work, and allowing my mother’s clothes to keep their color. May the laughter of children lift the weariness of their parents after a long, tiring day.

Source: Guu