After enduring the chill of winter, spring arrives with its warm sunshine. Beyond the roughness, the starkness, and the gloom of winter, we step into the gentleness, softness, and vibrancy of spring. When the cold fades, the little bees—children who mostly stayed indoors for lessons—now buzz around parks and rooftops, watching flowers bloom, planting new seeds, and basking in the returning warmth. And from there, friendships begin to blossom too.
One sunny spring morning, the teacher and the class head to the rooftop to plant. Tiny hands bury the orange of carrots into the loose, brown soil. A new girl, who joined just a couple of days ago, fumbles to fit in with the others. Seeing this, the curly-haired girl sitting beside her quickly offers to roll up her sleeves. A bright smile and an enthusiastic voice coax the newcomer to open up and extend her hand. That day’s lesson sparkles with countless shining smiles.
Spring’s arrival means Tết is knocking at every door. Tết is a refined and delightful guest for every child. When this charming visitor steps inside, they get new clothes, red envelopes with New Year’s blessings, and a feast of delicious dishes cooked by Mom. But the kids just stand at the doorway, peering in, watching all the preparations. If they show “good intentions” to help, they’re swiftly brushed off and labeled as naughty.
At school during these days, the children dive into Tết preparations through their lessons. They steam gấc sticky rice, “shop” for kumquats and peach blossoms, wrap bánh chưng, arrange flowers, and even distill floral water. For the gấc sticky rice, they use fragrant white sticky rice soaked in a basin. A red gấc fruit is split open, its seeds scooped into a bowl. The kids gleefully rub their hands on the cool, red seeds with their odd, unfamiliar scent—something not every city child gets to experience. Once steamed, the rice wafts with a mouthwatering aroma. They scoop it into plastic bowls, cover it with cling film to keep off dust, and take it home to share with family.
That’s the task for the older kids, aged four to six. The younger ones, meanwhile, head to the market to pick flowers for arranging. To them, flower arranging means wielding scissors, snipping branches over and over, then tucking them into a soggy sponge. They focus intently, handling each stem with care, afraid that a rough touch might scare the flower friends into hiding their pretty dresses.
After January’s rainy days spent indoors, when the skies clear and the temperature creeps up a bit, the kids venture out to the park. Crossing the gate, they scatter like a flock of birds set free, running around with uncontainable joy, as if they’ve just found a long-dreamed-of treasure. In the spring park, a few dry leaves linger under trees, while the grass and flowers don fresh new coats. Over there, where winter painted the ground purple with Japanese daisies, now bloom the bold reds and bright yellows of dahlias.
The little ones visit the park, while the older kids go “select” kumquats and peach blossoms. The flower village near Tết buzzes with activity and bursts with color. The path to the kumquat garden stretches wide open. The children compete to sniff the tangy scent of the leaves and rinds, pressing their noses right up to them. Soon, they spot fallen kumquats scattered around—a new toy to play with and explore. They grab sticks from the ground, skewer the fruits, and gaze at them with delight.
Over at the peach garden, they’re warned to be extra careful not to snap the branches of the farmer’s trees. So, their activities shrink to simply admiring the peach blossoms—how they look, how the branches spread, and what kinds there are. They love running their hands over the rough bark of the peach trees, so different from the cool, mossy feel of the kumquat trunks. It’s these little differences that spark their curiosity.
As Tết draws closer, Mr. Công and Mr. Táo prepare to ascend to the heavens to report the year’s deeds to the Emperor of Heaven. Meanwhile, the kids get to try wrapping bánh chưng, starting with the smallest steps: soaking beans, soaking rice, marinating meat. Then they learn how to lay out the leaves, what goes in first, what comes next, and how to fold it all up. Tiny hands make tiny cakes—just enough for each child to take one home and place on the ancestral altar. And so, they’ve joined in the whole process of preparing for Tết.
Another year comes to an end. It begins with spring, trudges through the scorching heat of summer, cools off in autumn, and braves the biting cold of winter. But once that frigid season passes, spring brings warmth again. The children return home with a bundle of new experiences to share around the family reunion table. Each year, they grow a little more, and that’s the reward for the 365 days they’ve lived through.