Confused guava flavor

A few days ago, when I went to the market near my house to buy food, I saw a car of guava with plump and red flesh, so I bought some to take home. In the past, in my grandmother’s small hamlet, every house planted a guava tree or two, some in the front yard, some near the water floor or in the backyard. In autumn, the scent of ripe guava spreads to each house, blending into the cold space, peace and comfort. After two nights, the guava turns ripe, the guava scent wafts in the house, living room, spilling into the kitchen, into the bedroom, mixed with the chilly air of Tho Ha ancient village, mixed with the scent of guava in the memory.

The number of guava trees in my grandmother’s house is many times higher than in other houses in Tho Ha ancient village, stretching from the front yard, porch, water floor to the back porch. Sometimes, mother and brothers sometimes advise, sometimes grumble about wanting to cut down guava and plant other fruit trees. Each time, she smiled slightly: “My family has many children and grandchildren, one tree, who can eat and who can’t”. She is so persistent, so every guava season, I don’t like to go around the neighborhood, just want to lie down on a bamboo bed in the yard, so that my whole body is soaked in the scent of ripe guava.

Grandma’s house has five different guava trees. One tree is guava, which is about the size of a chicken egg, with a thick shell, few seeds, sour taste, and mouth-watering aroma. The second tree is like a round red guava, not only sweet, but also a fruit on the table, fragrant throughout the room. The third tree is the red guava, the small round fruit like an orange, when ripe turns white, easy to find among the green foliage. The remaining two trees are often clustered, which is a large, coarse white guava; but guava clusters “united” with green, ripened together, were picked and enjoyed together.

Later, when the grandmother got old, the aunt and uncle were busy with business, so the guava trees grew by themselves, and when the season came, they gave fruit. However, it may be because the soil in the garden is fertile, or the rainfall in Tho Ha ancient village is temporary, so in the season, every tree always bears fruit. Children who want to eat just need to pick a branch or pick a tree for the kid to pick up. In the guava season, it was enough to eat, but the rest of the months, my sister and I carried it day after day, looking up at the sky or drawing low branches to discover the “out-of-season” guava. Out-of-season guava is well received. Regular visitors and manicures. Those who are lucky enough to press their nails at the time of guavas are as lucky as winning lottery tickets, those who hit it when the left is still green and hard, vice versa. Once I burst into tears because my guava “tamarind” had been eaten by Tu’s son for a long time. At that time, my grandmother had to pay me a bag of cakes, just… for a while.

Because of the COVID-19 epidemic, I stayed at home more in Tho Ha ancient village, so I had time to enjoy the scent of ripe guava and feel the scent that seemed to have been submerged in memory. I cut the guava in half, the pink color is eye-catching, but the taste is not the same as before: still sweet, but the fruit is not firm, not strong aroma. However, with every bite, my emotions rushed back, confused with my love for my motherland. Calculating the time, it’s been two years due to the epidemic, I have not visited my mother’s hometown, cannot light incense for her, cannot wander in the garden looking for “out-of-season” guava or clip my nails if I’m lucky enough to find it. a fruit turning yellow on the top…

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