Velvet Tamarind-“Little Sunshine”

Velvet tamarind and “little sunshine” in an indelible memory.

From a distance, she spots the bright yellow flowers gently swaying on the library’s archway. The white walls and light blue gate of the city library – a charming old French-style villa – stand out against the peaceful street. Since the start of 10th grade, this has been her haven for borrowing books and studying. This summer, it’s become her favorite hideaway.

Parking her bicycle in the corner of the yard, she turns and is startled by a hand holding out a ticket with the number 1. Looking up, she sees a tall guy smiling at her, saying, “Here’s your ticket.” She takes the ticket, curiosity piqued, wondering who he is.

The middle-aged librarian places the books on the table, smiles and says, “During the summer, the library gets many readers and bicycles, so I asked my nephew, who just returned from the army, to help check and arrange them.” Thanking the librarian, she returns to her seat. She often chooses a table facing the library gate, allowing her to gaze at the yellow flowers or let her mind wander to the deserted, sunny road outside.

The morning flies by, and soon it’s time to head home. Her bike is the last one left in the yard. She hands over the ticket, hesitating, unsure of what to say, but is met with an understanding smile: “There’s no parking fee, little sunshine.” She nods in thanks, feeling a twinge of annoyance. After all, she’s 16 now, and hardly “little” anymore.

The summer afternoon rain arrives swiftly and departs just as quickly, leaving the air cool and refreshed. As she walks her bike out, her eyes catch sight of a yellow flower branch on the parking attendant’s small table, next to a book. “The rain broke it. Would you like to take it home?” Startled, she blushes and stammers, “Uh… never mind.” The attendant adds with a grin, “The huỳnh anh flower is poisonous, so be careful not to eat it.”

She widens her eyes, “Isn’t this flower called chuông vàng?”

“Chuông vàng, hoàng anh, quỳnh anh – there are many names for it, but its correct name is huỳnh anh.” The yellow bell branch now sits in the basket of her bike, accompanied by a mischievous smile: “Remember, don’t eat it even if you’re hungry!” 

She mumbles her thanks. On the way home, the name “huỳnh anh” keeps repeating in her head. It turns out that she’s only just now learning the name of this familiar and lovely flower.

This afternoon, she arrives late, and her usual seat is already occupied. She chooses a small table by the window, with her back to the arched wall of the house. While reading, she suddenly hears a quiet conversation outside.

“You take good care of this Tonkin jasmine; it’s blooming beautifully.” “I just watered and fertilized it; it’s nothing.” “I brought the guitar, could you play and sing?” “Not now, don’t make noise.”

She secretly turns her head to look through the window. A boy about her age cradles a guitar in his arms, sighing heavily, while the parking attendant focuses on his book. As the afternoon wanes, a sweet, gentle scent fills the air. Ah, the scent of Tonkin jasmine! She suddenly recalls that the Tonkin jasmine on the trellis in the yard has grown much greener recently, casting a cool shade.

The library is empty as she hesitantly walks to the door and stops. The gentle strums of the guitar weave a tender backdrop for a soulful voice: “The afternoon sea is full of waves, we sing joyfully like children, enjoying the dreamy years under the school roof, we play innocently like waves…” (from “You are still like the old days” by Trần Tiến). 

The melodious chords and his heartfelt voice flutter gently like a delicate blue butterfly alighting on the yellow bell vine then landing softly on her heart. The butterfly’s wings keep flapping, and she feels a tender warmth spreading through her chest – a burgeoning sensation she can’t quite name. 

From then on, she finds herself occasionally distracted. Her eyes may be on the page of the book, but her heart soars out the window. The other day, her best friend copied a poem from somewhere and showed it to her. She secretly writes down a passage from that poem in her notebook:

“Someone crossed my path today, 

His steps were lighter than the sun’s soft ray. 

My soul is fragile, don’t stir the breeze, 

For if it blows, my soul will rise among the trees.”

           (“A Little Poem”, Du Tu Le)

She wonders absentmindedly whether her soul is drifting above the fragrant Tonkin jasmine trellis or the brilliant yellow bell vine. She feels a pang of frustration at herself for why every time she parks or picks up her bike, her heart pounds like a school drum. And then there’s the parking attendant, who had suddenly placed a package of velvet tamarinds in her bike’s basket, as black as his eyes: “For you, little sunshine.” 

She hurriedly thanked him and quickly walked away, leaving behind the other boy’s grumble: “I haven’t tasted it yet, who are you giving it to?” And a light laugh: “The velvet tamarind is for the girls, not for boys, my bro.”

She has eaten velvet tamarinds with her friends many times, finding them sweet and sour, and more enjoyable when shared during their lively conversations. Yet she keeps this package for herself, savoring a few each day and finding them so sweet. She wants to find a gift in return but can’t think of one.

The new school year begins, and she can no longer visit the library as often. But every Sunday, she will come and be greeted by that bright smile. She changes her seat to the arched wall so that she can occasionally overhear the random conversations between the parking attendant and his younger friend.

One afternoon, while she is reading, she suddenly hears the boy asking, “When are you leaving?” “Probably in a few days. Today is my last day working here.” Her heart feels like a little bird that has just been held tightly, and she forgets to breathe.

The song she hears as she steps to the door that afternoon is “Little Sunshine” by Trần Tiến. The lyrics resonate in her mind: “I wonder what in my song made the little girl laugh all along. I wonder what in my song made the little boy sit in dreams. Happiness is simpler than it seems. Every night, my sunshine gleams, waiting for my song like waiting for dreams.”

Each word of the song penetrates her heart. She musters up all her courage to look into his eyes when returning the ticket and sees them sparkling with a warm smile: “Little sunshine, be good and study well.” “Thank…thank you. Good luck to you!”

The way home today feels so long. Her eyes sting and blur with tears. Only the song remains, repeating in her mind. “You gave me the blue sky of my childhood dreams, you gave me the river carrying the sails of my aspirations…” She knows she will forever cherish his smile and the memory of being a “little sunshine”.

* Singer Thành Nghiệp: 

– “You are still like the old days”: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RKEkiY1Bmtc 

– “Little Sunshine”: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P_MoqoRMKts 

mlefood – Minh Lê