It was not the first time that I left Hanoi – my student life has marked many times coming to Hue, Quang Tri, Bac Kan, Thai Nguyen, … – but this time to Lai Chau, I have a feeling strange feeling. I just graduated from school, this is my business trip. Stepping through the narrow student life to enter a new life made me surprised. On the way from Hanoi to Lai Chau, I got to know people of different generations. They made me see how big and beautiful this life is. Especially the way I came to Sapa. Sa Pa, hearing the name, people wanted to rest, but there are people who work hard, they are willing to sacrifice their youth for the country. They leave a beautiful impression on me as well as anyone who sets foot on this land.

“Just a few more kilometers to Sapa” – said the driver. I began to be eager, curious, looking away from the window in a quiet but enamored way.

After the conversation and happy exchange between me – the driver – the old painter, everyone suddenly stopped, because the scene in front of my eyes suddenly appeared strangely beautiful… The sun now began to creep in and burn the forest. tree. The pines stood overhead, fluttering in the sun, silver fingers under the watchful gaze of the death trees occasionally protruding their lilac heads above the green of the forest. Clouds are blown away by the sun, curled up in lumps, rolling on the dew-wet leaf arches, falling on the road, even under the car…

In the meantime, the driver stopped the car for everyone to rest. As for me and the artist, he turned mysteriously: he was going to introduce us to one of the “loneliest people in the world”. This driver is so funny to give him a name like that. Uncle also affirmed to the painter – an art enthusiast that: “I would like to draw him anyway”. For some reason, the driver glanced at me again, making me blush involuntarily. That look may have profound implications.

According to the driver, it was a twenty-seven-year-old guy who worked as a meteorologist and a geophysicist on the 2600m high Yen Son peak. When he first took the job, he was not used to the atmosphere of the forest and trees here, so he “craved for people” so much that he blocked the log across the road to find an excuse to have someone to talk to.

– There he is! – Just driving.

The old painter and I were really touched and surprised when we saw a small boy with a radiant face running from the mountainside in front of us to the parking lot.

The son gave the driver a small package – the tuber of the tamarind – a plant of the mountains. And the driver gave him the book. The two said something to each other, the driver smiled brightly and the other young man was also happy. I have a feeling that the two people’s actions are not simply the feelings between two acquaintances but the feelings of family members. As it turned out, the driver’s wife just got sick, the other guy sent a few “homegrown” tambourines and me. The driver sent books to buy to help him read less sad and remember normal life!

Standing for a moment, the driver took the young man by the hand to the painter and me to introduce. He invited us to visit the house where he lived. Then, like many other young men, he blushed, panicked and asked to go home first. Not only me, the painter or anyone else will think that you run ahead to clean the house, cut the house, or fold the blankets because… you’re young! That’s why being alone makes it hard to avoid that difficult thing to say.

But what a surprise! I noticed the artist’s surprise when I walked up the earthen steps to see the boy picking flowers. And I just said “oh” one voice. After nearly two days, after nearly four hundred kilometers of long distance from Hanoi, standing in the clouds on the same level as the other rainbow, suddenly met the peonies, dahlias, yellow, purple, red, pink roses, beehive… just below it is summer, suddenly and happily, forgetting all about shyness, I ran to the boy who was cutting flowers. He was as spontaneous as a friend who was used to handing me a bouquet of cut flowers, and very naturally, I took it.

– I cut a few more branches. Then she wanted to take as much as she wanted. She kept cutting a large bunch in. You can cut it all off if you like. I don’t know how to celebrate this very solemnly today. Uncle and aunt are the second group of guests to visit my house since Tet, and she is the first girl from Hanoi to come to my house four years ago.

The boy said things out loud what people were supposed to think. It’s also something people don’t think about. That made me and the artist immediately moved and fascinated. I held the bouquet to my chest, daring to look him in the face. The young man caught that look, quickly wiped the sweat from the bridge of his nose, smiled, and asked in a low voice:

– Also union members, interview?

“Yes,” I said.

– Well, stop picking flowers – The son suddenly decided – Uncle drove only for thirty minutes. Five minutes are over. I talk through my work, five minutes. Twenty minutes left, invite uncle and aunt into the house to drink tea and tell me the story. I really want to hear the story below…

He started plotting about his work. That his job is to measure wind, measure rain, measure sunshine, calculate clouds, measure earthquakes to forecast the weather. Then there are difficulties and obstacles: stormy nights, blizzards, sunshine, and rain. But he still worked very seriously every hour, every minute. Because maybe you understand how important your work is…

I was still standing there, holding the bouquet and listening. He suddenly stopped. God! Ten minutes go by so fast!

“Say it again,” urged the painter.

– Report all! The boy shot back his cheerful voice.

– Twenty minutes to go. Uncle and aunt entered the house. The tea is already soaked.

The short time remaining urged ourselves. We entered the clean and tidy three-room house.

The painter promised to come back and listen to the story below.

Uncle just sipped a cup of tea and listened to him explain the phrase “the loneliest in the world”. That there is someone more lonely than you. That guy on the top station of Fansipan peak three hundred one hundred forty-two meters is more alone than him.

I was reading the book on his desk and still listening to the two of them talking.

The more he talked to the boy, the more interested the artist seemed. Uncle suggested to draw him. But he’s from the hut. Because according to him – he is not a person worth drawing. He humbly introduced others. That’s the engineer in the vegetable garden under Sapa. But fortunately with a few strokes, the artist finished recording the face of the young man for the first time.

This young man made me and the artist think too much.

The things I heard together and the things I discovered on the page I was reading left me stunned. Is it because the light in the book made me understand more about the young man’s wonderful brave life alone, about the world of people like him that he told, about the way I went?

Not just because of the huge bouquet that would follow me on my first trip, but because of another bouquet, a bouquet of random hopes and dreams he gave me. I don’t want these moments to pass in vain in my life. I wish to leave something meaningful here… I gently unlocked my small purse…

And there’s only five minutes left.

The painter clicked his tongue and stood up. I also stood up and went to my uncle.

– UMBRELLA! You forgot the scent here!

The young man who had just entered shouted, he wrapped his handkerchief in the middle of the book and returned it to me. The gift I thought was a little petty, gentle but… I bowed my head shyly not looking directly at him, accepting the towel and turning away.

The painter and him were attached and set an appointment to meet again. As for me – I held out my hand for him to hold, careful and clear as if people were giving each other something, not giving a handshake. I looked at him, looking like I’d never see him again.

– Hello.

I don’t know what to feel then. The last thing he cared about for everyone was that he pressed the pavilion into the artist’s hand and said it was for everyone to have lunch.

We left, the sun had silvered the whole pass, burning the forest, making the bouquet even more brilliant, making me feel brilliant.

This trip is an unforgettable trip in my life. I have met beautiful, noble people. They made me enjoy life more, feel more confident in my work and the young man left a deep impression of a young generation like me – he has devoted himself to the three ready movement. He lives on the outside “quiet” but inside, the excitement of this beloved, poetic land.