Twenty-two years – a span of time longer than one third of a lifetime – enough to turn a young man into a grown man with a family, children, and a sky full of memories. Yet, when I set foot in Canberra again, walking through the gates of the university where I once studied, I suddenly felt my heart tremble with a strange rhythm: as if all the changes of life and age had paused, leaving only the beating heart of a graduate student from long ago.
Canberra in winter is cold. The sharp chill seems to seep into every muscle, every breath. Yet that day the sky was clear and the golden sunlight spread everywhere. The contrast was strange: a freezing winter that still shone brightly like a spring day. I thought, perhaps this too was a metaphor for this return. Time may turn a teacher’s hair gray and weigh hearts with experiences, but the sunlight of memory still shines brightly, warmly, never fading.
I led my wife and two children along the brick-paved path into the campus. The children chirped as they ran around, pointing in wonder at the kangaroos hopping across the lawns. The scene left me speechless. Years ago, I too had stopped here, quietly watching them with colleagues during the Ministry of Education’s working delegation in 2014. Today, the view was the same, but I was different: no longer alone, now with my family beside me. The feeling was both new and familiar, like a cycle that fate had arranged with care.
The campus is now more spacious and modern. Tall lecture halls, wide classrooms, bright libraries – all radiating the vitality of an educational institution rising strongly. But what moved me most was not the new buildings, but when I caught sight of a familiar figure in the crowd. It was my old teacher, Dr. Eleni, who once patiently taught me and guided my first steps on the research path. She looked a little different from 22 years ago when she walked with us in downtown Ho Chi Minh City, but her smile was still as warm and gentle as ever. When our eyes met, I suddenly felt as if I had returned to my youth, to those afternoons at Ho Chi Minh City University of Education, listening awkwardly to her lectures in English, a language I was still clumsy with then.
We embraced in indescribable joy. She asked about me with deep affection, while I stood shyly, like a young student again. Amid the relentless flow of time, some feelings remain intact, never fading. I realized that my years studying at the University of Canberra gave me not only knowledge, but also left in my heart profound bonds with teachers, sacred connections that endure.
I walked with my wife and children all around the campus. Under the old trees, we recalled the days of my English Language Teaching Master’s program at HCMUE, telling the children about the lively discussions I once had with classmates. I wanted my family to touch my memories, for my children to understand that their parents once had a youthful time full of effort and dreams. In the eager eyes of my children, in the sympathetic smile of my wife, I felt happiness spreading – a quiet yet profound happiness.
Canberra remains the same: vast green fields, kangaroos hopping under the sunlight. The peace here feels like a mirror reflecting the soul: no matter how bustling and competitive life becomes, this place remains a serene realm of memory to return to. Perhaps it is this tranquility that inspired a poem to flow from me so naturally. The verses came without effort, not calculated, but like the breath of the heart:
The cold sky still bright, sunlight golden,
The green fields stretch endlessly.
Kangaroos leap like rhythms of music,
Winds drift freely like a noble melody.
White clouds drift gently by the shore of memory,
Clear rivers ripple across distant paths.
One feels as if stepping into a painted scene,
A peaceful place like a golden dream.
Reading again, I see not only the beauty of Canberra in the poem, but also my own reflection: a former student returning to his old university, moved to meet again with teachers and friends; a father bringing his wife and children to the place that held his youth; a man who has lived through many years yet still keeps in his heart gratitude and love.
This writing is therefore not just a memoir, but also an expression of gratitude. Gratitude for the years that nurtured my aspirations. Gratitude for the teachers who guided me, the friends who accompanied me. Gratitude even for Canberra’s nature, with its golden winter sunlight and vast green fields, which became the most beautiful part of my life’s memories.
Twenty-two years later, I returned, to see that while time flows, human bonds and memories remain unchanged. I believe that in every journey of life, there is always such a stopping point – a place to look back, where happiness wells up as we realize that we have lived, studied, and loved there. For me, that stopping point is the University of Canberra.
Canberra, August 29, 2025.