By MyLien Nguyen

Da-Lat.... a little, tucked away, mountainous town of Viet Nam. It is the place where I always long to go back. After the fall of Saigon into the Communists' hands, things became different. I visited Da-Lat for a week during my memorable and emotional trip back home last December. Still the same scenery but the atmosphere had changed. It was not quite like in the days of my youth. It was not quite like the picture that I had in my dream. The dream that I had recently in a happy moment of my life.

We are at the Valley of Love. We find ourselves lost in the thick of the hilly slopes covered with thousands of slender pine trees. The breeze from a bordering lake sweeps the sweet pine scent through each and every crack and crevice of our lungs. The trees with their long leafy stems swaying rhythmically in the howling wind like bows sliding up and down the violin strings, serenading our hearts. The sun is setting in the far west. Long wavy orange strips of sunlight weave to the movement of the water on the clear quiet lake adding beauty to the vision. The brisk cold evening air feels like it's cutting my blushy warm face. We silently meander through the forest, hand in hand, feeling the warmth radiating from each other's body and heart. Words are simply unnecessary. Silence is our accomplice. Explicit verbal exchange is reflected in our starry eyes and through our intense sensation of unity and harmony.

Wings of my dream carry me to the Romance Garden and gently lay me down in an embellished meadow of sunflowers. I lie there comfortably in my misty state of mind. The multitude of tall, straight-stalked sunflowers with their large leaves and perching heads surrounding me gives the comfort of a safe sanctuary. In the midst of the misty twilight of the day, a little jolly girl aimlessly and mindlessly hops on one flower then another, her transparent white frilly long dress floating in the west wind. Behind her, a handsome young man frantically follows her path, his arms waving to get her attention. He finally catches up to her. The crickets and the birds stop their chirping and lend their ears to the couple's giggling that echoes in the tranquillity of the late evening.

Dim vision of various familiar, spectacular, scenic settings flash by in the subconcious zone. Too quickly for the mind to register or be aware of the physical and emotional details of the events. The Lamenting Lake with its sadly ended and brokenhearted legend forever wears a mysterious and eerie expression, even more so on rainy days or in the foggy dawn or dusk of the day. Secretly tucked in the neck of the faraway woods, the foamy white Bridal Veil Waterfall, as always overpowering, energetic and aloof, stands up high as a monument of beauty and wonder. With its small population, primitive amongst others, the town has always been a center of tourist attraction. The hilly, shaded, deserted streets with the well-manicured lawns and patches of vibrantly colored exotic flowers bordering the villas give the town a classy character. It is not a ski resort but it resembles one. The refreshing mountain air and the ambiance of a small close-knit community remind me of Aspen, Colorado. The uniqueness of the town stems from the mixed traits of an urban district nestled in the wilderness where lifestyles reflect the dichotomy and the ambivalence between civilization and the old traditions.

We sit in a cozy little cafe' overlooking a thick green valley of pines. The me'lange of the sweet pine scent and the warm coffee aroma offers an exotic and tantalizing treat to the senses. The view, though blocked by the surrounding soft hills, seems to plunge into the limitless horizon. The romantic and melancholic sound of the music is therapeutic and soothing even to the most troubled minds.
Deeply moved by the surroundings, I blurt out a few poem verses in my native language, simple yet revealing. They come from the bottom of my racing heart. He smiles. A smile that is imbued with a touch of admiration, understanding and contentment. We talk for a long time. Things of the past, the present and the future. The meeting of the minds is so powerful that unspoken words and subtle expressions come to be revealing still. Time comes to an absolute standstill. We both plunge into the serene silence of the night.

The soft voice of the waitress suddenly brings me back to reality. To my dazzlement and disappointment, I find myself thousands of miles away from my most favorite place, alone in my half-lit bedroom. The morning sunshine diffusing into my room prepares me for a new day. Another day in the life of a single parent, alone on her way to the discovery of her own identity and the fulfillment of her dream.

Fallen leaves of '98