To my dear
Today, I penned another letter—a quiet act that unfolded amidst the pages of a well-worn book. Meanwhile, in the adjacent room, you meticulously curated photographs from our shared journeys. I tread lightly, knowing that you, too, have traversed countless volumes, extracting cherished lines from the vast expanse of literature.
Your unwavering support has been my muse, propelling me to write ceaselessly throughout our years together. Whether in lengthy prose or succinct notes, my notebooks stand as a testament to this daily commitment. Even the digital confines of my phone’s notes section bear witness to my thoughts, densely woven into text.
As I revisited the closing pages of “Trong đáy mắt trời xanh là vĩnh viễn” (In the Eyes of Blue Sky Is Forever Xuân Quỳnh’s letters to Lưu Quang Vũ stirred something within me. And so, I write—for you, for us.
(Truth be told, not every day mirrors the sentiment I’ve just shared. Yet, there’s something uniquely profound about penning letters—an art that allows thoughts to flow freely, unencumbered by brevity.)
Upon reading the section where Xuân Quỳnh wrote, “the intelligence and wisdom you supplement for me make me a more complete person,” I found myself smiling involuntarily. I recall using a green pen to highlight this line during my previous reading for easy future reference. I remember the early days of our relationship when your discussions on topics such as astronomy, geography, and politics, albeit not profound, would leave me in awe. While I still experience such moments, they have become less frequent. I have since delved into many books on topics that I previously had little interest in. Through our discussions, I have developed a desire to broaden my understanding of the world. This has also enhanced my writing skills, to the point where a poet friend recently remarked on the logical structure of my poetry. Reflecting on this, I realize that it is indeed true; my earlier poems were often vague, much like my past self. Perhaps love encourages us to explore each other’s worlds, thereby making us more complete individuals.
I have often asserted my ability to live alone, yet I consistently choose to share my life with someone. For the past decade, that someone has been you. While solitude is acceptable, companionship is preferable. I firmly believe that you share this sentiment. The evidence lies in the fact that all your actions revolve around our mutual happiness. We have had our share of disagreements and disappointments. Married life is not always a bed of roses. In fact, there have been periods when we both found ourselves in a metaphorical dark place. Over the past two years, we have been in a constant state of exploration. There is something simmering beneath the surface, waiting to disrupt our tranquil life cycle, but we are yet to identify what it is. Could it be a fresh inspiration to lead a different life? Especially now that we have achieved all that we once desired. You and I share a common aspiration to evolve into better versions of ourselves.
However, even during periods of uncertainty, when I reflect on the ordinary events of daily life, I find them immensely endearing. After all, nothing imparts stability to our lives like our routine meals of rice and vegetables. I often grumble about the sweltering weather, while you lament about the floor becoming dirty soon after cleaning. The two great poets of the previous era must have experienced similar trials – laboring, rising, and suppressing their egos under a single roof.
Despite our contradictions, we continue to grow together.
