On the last afternoon of the first week of June, the Northern Bus Station (Lang Son) was more crowded than usual. Amidst the crowd carrying bulky luggage, Ms. Nguyen Thi Huong (34 years old, a worker at a component assembly company in the border area) continuously instructed her 8-year-old son before getting on the bus to return to his hometown in Nghe An.
The small backpack on the child's shoulder was full of clothes, a few comic books and his favorite toy. The boy was excited because he was about to meet his grandparents, fly a kite in the field and swim in the river with his friends in the neighborhood.
As for Ms. Huong, although trying to smile, her eyes were still red.
“I count down from the end of the school year to return to my hometown. But I feel sad every summer,” she said.
She and her husband are both workers. One work in the morning shift, one in the evening shift. The income of the whole family is enough to cover living expenses but not enough to hire a babysitter or register for summer camps lasting many weeks.
With no other choice, for the past 5 years, every summer her son has been sent back to his hometown for his grandparents to take care of.
In my hometown, my child is much happier than in the rented room. But every time I see my child off to the bus, I feel like I'm missing a part of the house," Ms. Huong confided.
In many worker dormitories in industrial provinces such as Bac Ninh, Bac Giang, Hai Phong or Dong Nai, the scene of bringing children back to their hometowns at the beginning of summer has become familiar.
Long-distance passenger cars not only carry luggage but also carry the feelings of many working families.
Mr. Tran Van Minh, a mechanical worker in Phu Tho, said that he and his wife have two children in elementary school. Every year, from June to the end of August, the two children return to their hometown in Thanh Hoa to live with their grandparents.
The rented room is cramped, my husband and I work from morning to night. If we leave our children behind, we can only let them hang around with phones or TVs. It's better to let them go home to run and exercise," Mr. Minh said.
What makes him most resentful is missing the days when his children grew up.
One year, returning to my hometown to pick up my child, I was startled because he was much taller. Many stories at school and in class, I was no longer the first to hear them," he smiled sadly.
For children, summer in the countryside is the most anticipated time of the year.
No more cramped rented rooms, no more afternoons sitting alone waiting for parents to finish work. Instead, there is the garden behind the house, herding buffaloes, fishing or running barefoot on the village road.
Nguyen Khanh Linh (10 years old) said she likes to go back to her hometown because she can sleep with her grandmother, pick lychees and go out with her cousins.
In the city, parents are very busy. Coming to my hometown, grandma is always at home with me," the girl innocently said.
Every night, after work, Ms. Huong opens her phone to video call her son. Sometimes the call lasts for nearly an hour. Sometimes it only lasts a few minutes because the boy is busy playing with friends in the neighborhood.
The conversations often revolve around what to eat today, where to play, whether to listen to grandparents.
Any day I can't call, I miss it. Many times after talking to my child, I sit and look at old photos," Ms. Huong recounted.
