“Now, looking back over the years, I still wonder what I would have brought along if I had known what would happen to us. Perhaps the black-and-white picture of my parents on their wedding day. But I also know that on the verge of death, there is no time for nostalgia.”

This is an early look at the regret that can accompany even small choices during wartime. While surely she would have appreciated having her parents’ wedding photo, her reflection demonstrates an understanding that even nostalgia pales in comparison to the most important things in life, and there is no question that the book she brings helps her get through a uniquely challenging time.

“As my mother left, Heaven cried his farewell in big drops of rain. […] The rain swept across us and swallowed her up into its swirling mouth.”

Hương’s lament at her mother’s departure is strikingly poetic, and it conveys her personal belief in the forces of fate and heaven. Rain functions as two distinct metaphors in this image: first as manifestation of divine sorrow at the separation of mother and daughter, and then conversely as the agent that divides them and even devours Ngọc. Taken together, this image implies Hương’s belief that, tragic as losing her mother is, it is nevertheless a part of their destiny.

“Oh how I longed to run my fingers through my mother’s hair again. We’d always washed our hair together, under the shade of our báng tree. Those days seemed like a dream away; even our beloved tree was now just a memory.”

Here, Hương falls prey to the very human tendency to wish things could go back to the way they were. It is naïve (though very reasonable, especially considering she is a child) to expect that life will be the same once her mother returns. Her recognition that the tree that formed such an important part of this ritual is itself gone confirms this.