Christmas cards: Songs of the soul

As someone who loves to travel, I'm addicted to sending postcards to friends. But unlike those hastily scribbled cards in a few minutes at a roadside post office or while idling while waiting for a flight, Christmas is a time when I stay, sit down slowly, make colorful cards, and write the most heartfelt messages of love. For a long time, I've secretly considered Christmas a major holiday of the year, even though officially, Christmas doesn't have a mark on the Vietnamese calendar.

Religious people were enthusiastic, and even an atheist like me didn't miss the opportunity to buy a few small pieces of paper, a roll of colored silk ribbon, and force myself to pull out my pen and paintbrush from the drawer. I often wrote and drew whatever came to mind, hoping that those who received it would appreciate a part of my thoughts at that moment. Like a kind of telepathy painted with color.

The idea came to me a few years ago, when two German friends who stayed at my house couldn't find a properly spelled Christmas card along Hang Gai Street and decided to make me one from a candy box. Their treasure consisted of a few leftover candies from previous trips, a cake bought from the grocery store at the end of the street, and many greetings in different languages ​​they had picked up during their fifteen-plus-month journey. We shared the candy and ate it all that morning, and the box disappeared after a few house cleanings. But the habit of exchanging cards has become an unspoken friendship ritual between us.

Affection, if only shyly concealed, is not enough. People always need flowers, gifts, hugs, kisses, and affectionate words. Perhaps that's why holidays celebrating family bonds, even borrowed ones like Christmas, are never superfluous for Vietnamese people.

The Thanh