Everyone has a place to be born, grow up, grow up, and go away. That place is the hometown. I also have a place that is always in my heart, this land, with parents, grandparents, friends, and a childhood filled with the most memorable memories. I love my hometown, I love the people here with full of love. In my mind, each country has an unmistakable characteristic. People in that countryside, too, have their own personalities and emotions. My hometown has an immense rice field, a long run, but I have not gone to all. My mother said that it is still far away from this rice field, so I have never dared to go. In the season of rice ripening, the golden color of rice makes me feel like an endless yellow carpet. There are buffaloes diligently grazing on the tall and long dike slopes. There we could lie still and watch the cloudy sky drifting, watch the sun go down every time the sun falls over the high mountains.

My hometown is not beautiful and poetic but it is proud enough to say that flying a kite every way on the dike is great. The last rays of the day still lingers when our children pull together to the sandy beach to play. Every cool breeze in the air brings the kites away and high. It sends dreams about a beautiful future for rural children. Besides, the Red River is busy with flowing and sedimentation for 2 rows of trees to shine their shadow on the water, making the landscape charming. Standing to watch the sunset slowly disappear, the pink light is losing a strange feeling of regret. Alas! An exciting, noisy day has ended.