It was March. The kapok flowers looked like light bulbs, illuminating the whole valley. When viewed from a high mountain, they all stood out like being bunched together in the shape of a huge heart glowing with vigour. But later, just after one night, the garden was covered with tattered flowers piling up in drifts, now purple-red in a dark corner. Early that morning, when the old woman got up to sweep away the dead leaves, she understood that another spring had passed and that her daughter-in-law would be coming back soon.

By the time she reached home, the mid-afternoon sun was shining through the foliage of the kapok trees and washing over her hair and shoulders. Waiting in the shade, the old woman saw her daughter-in-law approaching from a distance. Then, grabbing the handbag from her hand, she said: "It’s damn hot. And that is a very long way."

The daughter-in-law silently followed the elder into the house. Everything remained the same, the familiar damp musty smell hung over the rooms while the low, crunching sounds of woodworms hummed through the furniture. Only the furniture aged with time to match with the gray-haired woman. From above the altar, it seemed as though her son were looking down at his wife, full of kindness and sympathy, while the elder prayed softly, smoke spiralling up from the two burning joss sticks overhead. "Come with me to have tea," said the elder to her daughter-in-law when she turned her head back a moment later. " Why is it so hot now, right at the turning of the season?".

Then, she managed to carry the dust-covered electric fan away from a corner of the house but found its wire had been bitten in some places by the mouse. "Damn it! Let’s wait until Nguyen comes back. That bloody little mouse could bite anything! Well, let’s it be! Just come over here and I’ll give you some help. Even this hand fan made of spathe will do –it has been useful for centuries." The daughter -in-law obediently went to sit on the threshold and look out at the clear and blue sky. Stretching as far as the eye could see were tea terraced hillsides where locals were busy at harvest time, the shadows of their white conical hats visible in dark patches scattered upon the landscape.

The mother-in-law fanned too hard, hitting her wounded arm. "Oh, what happened to you, Vinh dear?", she asked with a nervous start, her voice sounding like a bell dropping. But the widow kept silent, her tears running down onto her mother-in-law’s faded blouse. Every time she returned home she noticed the same blouse. "Why like that?", she asked herself and didn’t know if it had been faded by sweat, rain or sunshine.

Once, Vinh recalled, the mother-in-law said to her: "It’s not a suitable job for a woman like you to get too heavily involved in criminal hunting. Why not tell me the things that matter to you?".

But her story was too long and sad to tell! She didn’t want to burden her anymore with worry as the wrinkled face of her mother-in-law clearly showed she was aging dramatically. Now, from deep within herself Vinh had a strange feeling as if she were becoming young again each time she returned to this place, even though she had experienced half her life in woes and tears. All her troubles seemed to be somewhere, far away. Each year, she returned home once or twice but her stay was too short to make her mother-in-law feel enough of her presence in this large house after a prolonged period of waiting in anxiety. She wondered how her mother-in-law could regain enough energy to live any longer in spite of her weak eyesight and slow steps. Indeed, deeply engraved on her mind were her long departures coupled with so few a short homecoming. Twice a year, the gray-haired woman took down the two faded photograph frames from the altar to make them fresh in preparation for two death anniversaries. Time kept running its course, day after day, week after week, month after month.

This time, looking at her daughter-in-law, she sighed: "I really don’t understand why both of you have spent most of your time staying away year after year. Sometimes you come back for just a few days and again try to hide things from me. I’m old but still firm enough to share sorrow with you."

Maybe, her mother-in-law could take the rough with the smooth. But the wound of today was all that had been left for five years -so long ago but it seemed so very close - enough for little Nguyen to have grown into a nice boy but not enough for Vinh to recover from what she had lost. She could never forget the day of his death. Nguyen, who was still small then, blamed her for having pushed his brother into a losing battle. It was not easy to make him understand all’s fair in love and war. Life is really harsh and difficult to grasp sometimes! And now she was still entangled in a complex web of conflicted thoughts.

Yesterday, when she called at Nguyen’s school to remind him of his brother’s death anniversary, she was surprised to find him quite grown up and bearing much of a resemblance to his brother in appearance. The only difference was that he did not smile at her. She then walked away in sadness and later in the day she had a good cry over her failure to make him understand that behind the calmness of her smile were all the storms she had weathered.

From high above, it seemed as though her husband were tenderly looking down at her. And the afternoon light was paler now as the sun had dropped low and faded in colour. Yes, she recalled, the weather was also like today in late March. Their unit was assigned to catch thieves at a jeweller’s shop. He told her to stay at home but, for all she cared, she insisted on going with him. The irony of fate was that she was confronted with one of the robbers, identified as Quan, who had once been one of their old friends. Quan showed affection for her very early, dating back to a time when she was still young and often passed by his house with hair falling loose over her shoulders.

But she only loved her husband. On the day of their marriage Quan went away. He was thought to be doing business somewhere but… now he was rushing forward to grab her hand. Her husband quickly forced him down with a bullet but Quan turned back, aimed straight at his chest and fired. She almost fainted when he was running away. Her unit had been looking high and low for him with his warrant of arrest issued everywhere, but Quan was still nowhere to be seen.

Now, five years later, he was back robbing a mobile phone shop in the same street. Vinh again volunteered to assume the task. If she failed this time she would quit her job, Vinh told herself. After half a month, she and her teammates succeeded in catching him at a disguised brothel. As one of his handcuffs was linked to her wrist, Quan pulled Vinh down hard to knock her off balance on the staircase. She did not feel much pain but could not understand why he deliberately caused that terrible suffering to her and there was no one now capable of dressing her wound. She picked up the gun and tried to keep her balance. Quan stared at her, his eyes glazing with hate and affection. And at that moment she caught a glimpse of a human shadow.

That was her long and sad story! She didn’t know if her mother-in-law could understand it down to the last detail. And, moreover, she was asked when her mind was so confused with a jumble of thoughts. Tomorrow was his death anniversary. Vinh was not sure if her mother-in-law had left the room but, when turning back, she heard her soft consoling voice: " Well, take it easy now. You’d better go out and wash your hair."

Vinh stepped out towards the well, smelling something in the air that she had felt so familiar with since her marriage here long ago. Yes, it came from the soapberry liquid that held memories of her happiness she had enjoyed in this place, boiling the water for the whole family to wash their hair. Later, when she was too preoccupied with work, she had less time to think about such joyful moments. But, each time deep in thought, she again realised that happiness came from very simple things, like spinning and whirling her hair around to make it dry quickly as she was doing now. Her hair remained coal-black while her mother-in-law’s was white-gray like clouds spread thin over her head. From the bottom of her heart, Vinh felt much love for this land. Even though she was not born here, she still wished to spend her later years here, accompanied by her good memories.

Vinh still remembered the three red-flowered kapok trees and the yellow daisies growing wild along the path all four seasons and the late afternoons Nguyen enjoyed sitting and singing little love songs. And now she knew she was indebted to this land and its people as part of her own flesh and blood.

After dinner, Vinh went to invite relatives. She thought to herself that she was only over 30 years old but had already commemorated the death of her husband five times. Now, she was walking in the moonlight under the clear and blue sky that looked so beautiful and still like in a picture. In the past, she had often walked like this through the night to early dawn with her husband beside her. But, at the moment, only the moon was her companion, gazing down at her.

That evening, Vinh came home very late. Her mother-in-law was lying in bed with a fan in hand and listening to an old folk-song in praise of devoted women from the small radio set nearby. She softly lay down beside her but could hardly sleep as the moon was peeping down at her through the window. And her moody mother-in-law also kept tossing and turning.

"Vinh dear," she said to her at last, "A woman’s life passes quickly like a whiff of smoke. Ageing is even much quicker. As the dead cannot come back to life, love is better kept in your heart."

Vinh turned to embrace her mother-in-law- the one who always understood and had great sympathy and affection for her. One of her colleagues was left widowed with a little one and, she knew, he was already past the time of crazy love and only wanted a woman to take care of his family. Vinh also wanted to be a mother. But, every time looking up at her husband’s photograph above the altar, she again felt as though all things were just floating like clouds. He had left her quite suddenly but with a boundless love and she vowed to remain his forever. Love was not easy to explain and there was no point in doing so. Vinh consoled herself with this thought and held the old woman tight while the outside world was bathed in full moonlight and also shrouded in a veil of mist.

Finally, the only remaining man in the family also came back on this occasion. Now, over 15 years old, Nguyen wanted to apologise to his sister-in-law but she had left in a hurry. From behind her back he looked at Vinh whose jacket, blue -coloured like the sky, was casting its shadow over the road. The old woman then held back his hand and said: "Let’s wait until next year".

Next year. A woman’s life is like the bloom of a flower. Next year…

Translated by Nguyen Duc Phu