RETURNING HOME: A VOYAGE OF MEMORY, LOVE, AND BELONGING

I often find myself reflecting on the moment I first entered this world. I struggle to recall the exact beginning – what it was like to first recognize my presence in this vast, spinning universe. The earliest memories blur into a soft haze, but one place I know for sure remains vivid in my heart: Dalat. It is both a memory and a dream, a place I once called home but can hardly remember with clarity, like an image shrouded in mist, delicate and fragile.

I lived in a large house on Tang Van Danh Street, nestled along a slope, where my aunt’s family occupied the upper floors. The ground level consisted of two small apartments, one where my mother and I lived, and the other where my cousin and his wife resided. My mother worked, and I was left in the care of Aunt Duong, a slender woman who did everything for us with quiet grace. She was more than just a caretaker; she became an extension of my world, a constant during a time when my mother’s presence was often out of reach. But my mother, the one who filled my world with warmth, was always hustling through life, running errands, working tirelessly to provide for us. Though she wasn’t always physically present, her essence lingered in every small act of love – whether in her quick, reassuring hugs, or the way she spoke, her voice soft like a lullaby.

I remember, even in the hazy blur of childhood, a profound sense of love for my mother, an unspoken adoration that transcended any physical presence. She was like a fairy, a guardian angel who, even in her absence, enveloped me with an unshakeable sense of security and warmth. And it was this love that would carry me through the years, even as the world around me shifted in ways I couldn’t yet understand.

But life, like all stories, moves on. At some point, Dalat and all the warmth it offered faded from my life, as I was taken to Quang Tri, where I attended preschool. I barely remember the transition, but I do remember the sudden absence of my mother. The sense of loss that came with her departure – like a winter wind that strips away all warmth – was deep and unsettling. Her figure, once so vibrant and nurturing, vanished from my life, and with it, a part of my innocence.

In Quang Tri, I was left to navigate a world where my mother’s warmth no longer hovered over me. I remember feeling abandoned, though I was never truly alone. There was my father, who appeared like a fleeting figure in my childhood memories, always dignified and polished, returning from his travels with books and gifts, attempting to bridge the gap that my mother’s absence had left behind. It was through these books, through the written word, that I began to find solace, to build a connection to something greater than the small, isolating world of my childhood. Through books, I made friends with authors, with poets, with characters who understood loneliness, longing, and loss. And in doing so, I became less alone, though I never stopped feeling the absence of that deep maternal connection.

Despite the changes, despite the distance that grew between my mother and me, there were moments when she returned, even if only briefly. She would bring candies and small gifts, things meant to fill the empty spaces of my life. I remember her hands, rough yet tender, as she packed my belongings and prepared for her journey back to Dalat And even though she was only gone for a short time, the absence she left behind was suffocating. It was during those moments that I realized how much I depended on her – how she was my anchor in a world that seemed so uncertain.

The years passed, and I eventually made my way to Dalat to continue my education, to find my way back to her, to that love that had once filled my life so completely. Walking through the streets of Dalat, I felt the warmth of the city, as if the town itself was alive with memories, each street corner and alleyway infused with a kind of magic I couldn’t quite understand but could certainly feel. And there, in the embrace of my mother, in the comfort of her presence, I found something that I had been searching for all my life: the feeling of home.

But like all things, this too was fleeting. Life has a way of carrying us away from the ones we love, of taking us to places we never thought we would go. Yet, even in those moments of departure, there remains a part of me – like the little child I once was – longing for the warmth of my mother’s embrace, for the safety and simplicity of those early years.

As I reflect on my life now, here in Perth, I realize how much of that child remains within me. The longing for the simplicity of those early days, the comfort of knowing that love, unspoken and constant, would always be there to catch me when I fell. Even now, as I teach, as I write, as I translate the words of others, I am still searching for that sense of belonging, for that warmth, that sense of home that is both deeply rooted in my past and yet always just out of reach.

The challenges of our past – wars, separations, the struggles of everyday life – may never be fully understood or reconciled. But through it all, we carry the love and memories of those who shaped us. We carry them in our hearts, in our words, and in the stories we tell. For me, the journey of returning home is not just about finding a place; it is about finding the love, the belonging, the connection that transcends time and space.

So, as I sit here, in this city that has become my home in a different way, I think back to my childhood and to the love that guided me. I think of my mother, my father, and all the figures in my life who, in their own ways, have shaped me. And I know that no matter where I go, no matter how far from home I may travel, I will always carry with me the warmth, the love, and the memories of those early years – forever a part of who I am.

But there’s a strange thing about memory: as much as we carry it with us, we are forever reaching back for those moments when life seemed simple, when love was all around us, when we were whole and protected. Every time I return to those moments, they shift and morph – filling the void in new ways, transforming me as I revisit them, like an endless cycle of reflection, longing, and reconnection. Those memories, at once joyous and painful, are pieces of a puzzle that make up the intricate tapestry of who I am.

And though I may never be able to fully return to those days, to that home in Dalat, I carry its warmth within me, like a light that will never dim. It is my constant companion, guiding me through the most challenging of times. As I continue on this journey, through my writing, my teaching, my life, I know that no matter where I go, no matter how much time passes, I will always find my way back to that sense of home – the love that enveloped me when I was small, the love that still resides within me, and the love that will always guide me back to where it all began.

Vo Thi Nhu Mai, born on March 18, 1976, in Quang Tri, Vietnam, is a poet, literary translator, and dedicated educator currently living in Dianella, Western Australia. Holding a Master’s Degree in Literature, she has been a primary school teacher in WA since 2006, after completing her postgraduate studies at Edith Cowan University. Her teaching career began in Vietnam as an English teacher at Ngo Quyen High School in Ba Ria – Vung Tau (1998–2003), and since moving to Australia, she has worked at Dryandra Primary School and currently at Maylands Peninsula Primary School. Deeply involved in community service, she volunteered from 2015 to 2023 at Hung Vuong Vietnamese Language School, where she also played a crucial role in securing government funding for community education programs.

As a literary figure, Vo Thi Nhu Mai has published four poetry collections in Vietnamese, with a fifth forthcoming, and her poems have been set to music and performed widely. Her translations of poetry, prose, and short stories have introduced Vietnamese literature to international readers, including bilingual editions of works by notable Vietnamese poets and writers published in Romania, Canada, and beyond. In 2023, one of her English poems was selected for publication in a WAPOET anthology, marking a milestone in her bilingual literary journey. She is also known for her active support of fellow writers, assisting with book promotions, writing afterwords, and designing layouts for poetry collections.

Frequently performing bilingual poetry readings at cultural festivals in Western Australia, she bridges linguistic and cultural divides with grace and passion. She is the editor of two major bilingual anthologies (THE RHYTHM OF VIETNAM, THE GRACEFUL FOLDS OF TIME) featuring her English translations of poems by over 250 Vietnamese poets from both within the country and the diaspora; these works have been introduced and celebrated in various locations across Vietnam and in Perth. Beyond literature and teaching, she enjoys traveling to tranquil, culturally rich destinations, taking long walks, and reflecting on life for creative inspiration. For her, literature is not only an art of words but also a bridge of empathy and connection, a means to spread love and understanding through writing, translation, and literary advocacy. Her work can be found at: http://vietnampoetry.wordpress.com. Her website has been established for 15 years, where she promotes Vietnamese literature combining the beauty of Vietnamese and English language.