May 11, 2018 Vietnam
We are driving back into the city Hanoi from Halong Bay. Beckett is sleeping on my lap. I can feel a small fever burning in him. It’s the second time he has been sick this trip. He is our constant talker except for when he is ill. He goes into himself and is completely silent. No complaining or whining. He goes quiet and still and I secretly relish how calm and snuggly he is.
Vietnam is narrow.
The people are small and narrow. The houses in the cities are narrow cement rectangles that stretch back from the street fronts; in drab grey or faded blue with a dusting of street dirt on the facade of each. The roads are narrow with scooters, a few cars, and pedestrians. We all squeeze in where we can as we walk. There are no traffic rules and we all bob and weave around each other in a continuous slow moving dance to get to where we need to go.
The countryside is youthful this time of year as the grassy soil starts to grow. They work the fields and hide from the sun in long sleeves and conical shaped straw hats. There are farms and gardens growing on both sides of the road, even under freeway overpasses. Green square patterns that checker board out into the expanse. The people are the mule, the plow, and the harvesters. They work but they also love. I saw two young people sitting and speaking to each other like it was the most exciting thing in the world. The tenderness of their moment is recognized across all cultures and I felt a fire in my belly as I wintessed the simple truth that love always manages to show up. Thank you Vietnam.