Everyone has these childhood memories of Tet – those days spent tagging along with our parents as they visited family and friends. If you were lucky, there would be kids your age to play with. But if not, you’d sit there, nibbling on candies and snacks, watching the clock as the grown-ups laughed and chatted, catching up on the past year’s ups and downs, reminiscing about old stories that seemed to never end. As a child, I never understood the appeal of those long conversations. Once I had my fill of sweets, boredom would creep in, and I’d tug at my parents’ sleeves, begging them to leave.
But as we grew up, things changed.
Like my parents, I have come to an age where I’ve started visiting friends on Tet. Friends who once ran here and there around in tank tops and shorts through the neighborhood all day. Or friends used to go to class (and quán nét) together every single day. And now, they’re coming back from traveling the world, starting their own families, or welcoming their first child.
It’s funny, our generation has endless ways to stay connected. A quick text, a voice message, even a video call. And yet, sitting together in person, sharing stories over cups of tea, hearing about their families and their lives in a way that feels unhurried and real, there’s something irreplaceable about it.
And in those moments, I finally understand why our parents never seemed to be in a rush to leave. Why they’d linger just a little longer, insisting on finishing one more story, recalling one last memory before saying their goodbyes. Because sometimes, that one extra moment is all we get before saying goodbye and going back to our everyday life.
Just one more story, one more memory, just stay for a little bit longer.