Rowing down

 

So long, summer

"Row, row, row your boat/ Gently down the stream..."

The words from the cheery tune I would always chant as a kid now echo back in my mind, now that I am an ocean away from those carefree days. As I wander around the boardwalk undulating the rocky shores of Lulu Island, a few kilometers away from my home, the vast stretch of the sea glimmering in a fall twilight seems to stretch further than ever. The last rays of sunlight from the peach-tinted skies radiate faintly behind the snow-capped mountains, painting the tranquil riverbank in a vivid palette of azure and gold. The carefree days of summer have receded, trailing behind booth photographs, strawberry jam, and chlorine-streaked curls as a reminder of the fondest of memories an ocean away. 

Then, fall came, as lightly as the russet maple falling on the moss-covered roof. While typing these words, I could hear the soothing rhythm of the raindrops falling on the maple-shaded roof and the wind rustling through the majestic foliage. Much to my glorification of it in summer, the daily walks between home and school have gradually turned into misty adventures, where seeing something beyond 10 meters is a feat in the morning. My school, sprawling on a vast soccer field, is only recognizable by the dim headlights of the cars heading to the parking lot. The rhythmic tappings of my boots and the bright color of my jacket are the only guides to discern me from the thick mist. Thus, when I step inside the school, the welcoming warmth radiating from the pastry-scent classrooms awakens all of my senses to prepare for a long day ahead. As I settle down to my English class, which very much suits the leaden sky beyond the dying grass of the school field, we would dive into the rusty worlds of Southern Gothic literature and hold group conversations before droopy eyelids.


"O hushed October morning mild" - Robert Frost

Yet, despite the mist and the return of the torrential rains, I still continue the pleasure of getting around by any means of transportation. Just two weeks ago, I experienced first-hand a 15-hour working day as a Registration Clerk at the Vancouver Municipal Election. As if waking up at 5am on a Saturday morning wasn't straining enough, the delay on the Canada Line was just enough to top off a start to a long working day. The sole thing that made my day was my working place - right at the gym of my old school in Vancouver. I arrived at the place when it was still pitch dark - even the chimneys on the hilltop had not yet puffed. The familiar sight of the crimson brick building nestled under the towering cedars woke up all of the fond memories I spent here, even if it was only a semester long. Despite the hectic and demanding workday, this job was strangely intriguing, considering from the perspective of a frequent contemplator. Nowhere could I better marvel at the intricacies of society than on my creaky chair, where I met and registered hundreds of voters from all walks of life, from seniors who seemed like they could recite the entire Vancouver Charter to freshmen agog with the prospect of their first civic engagement. Despite the seemingly infinite workload, I was incredibly fortunate to be working along with other voting officials, who, behind their solemn expressions, were always there to offer me a Kinder Bueno or a heartwarming smile. The trickle of voters through the heavy gym doors, the cacophony of hundreds of conversations flowing, and the shuffle of ballots crafted a bustling atmosphere all day long, creating an everlasting impression of my first day at work. 

Still grinning after 10 hours of work because of a once-in-a-lifetime chance: using the all microwaves at the caf

Following that busy but intriguing weekend, I returned to my usual routine. School has been rolling in for nearly two months, bringing along senior year's fullest excitement and nostalgia. After a summer with sleepless nights under the dazzling Saigon lights, I returned to the cadence of another school year. The fact of entering senior year didn't amaze me as much as how far I have gone from a grade one with a cast on the leg crying at every lunch in the first month of school to a cheery, wavy layered-haired senior. A new school year comes with many joys - making new friends, many of whom are from all around the world, learning new things every day, and joining exciting extracurriculars, from crying over geometric problems at lunch or wandering around the school field for a reenactment of "A Rose for Miss Emily". Despite the immense time spent in the first two months of school brimming with vivacity, I still reminisce about the turbulent days when I convinced myself to go to school just because there were more books there than at home. Now, after five schools (because of family circumstances, not getting in trouble!) and moving back and forth from the Pacific Ocean, I have grown to realize the integral pieces of my identity that have persevered over years, such as my everlasting cherishment of the warmth of my family and my appreciation for the kindness, humor, and good food. As I look back at my old school photos, those eyes still twinkle with hope and joy (except for my elementary school graduation photo, where I looked immensely relieved under the neon orange glasses :) 

Vancouver, as seen from the boat cruise (and above the restaurant with Cheetos-flavored pasta)

However, as much as I shield myself from the waves of the present, they still engulf every aspect of my life. Conversations with my classmates no longer revolve around weekend activities or music, but rather anticipation and anxiety about our future. Many a late night working on group projects, I can see neat lines of green 'Active' dots beside the profile photos of my friends in senior year, even from those who post once in a blue moon. At school, vaguely familiar faces from last year now become the best confidants, who have been helping me navigate through the innumerable intricacies of schoolwork and post-secondary applications. The solidarity among seniors is astounding, from juggling between the meaning of epideictic speech and equilibrium to the next Personal Profile workshop. Then came festive occasions, such as the grad boat cruise and Halloween, and then the whole class bustled with cheeriness and humour as we put on top-notch costumes.  Everywhere I go, I could see the class bracing ourselves together for the great uncertainty ahead while still observing life to the fullest. Zesty jokes, hearty laughter, and endless diligence are always in the air, as we head together to an exciting chapter ahead. 

 "Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily/ Life is but a dream."

Though I do know that life is far from a dream, I still hope that I can reach the day when I can row my boat down the stream, after overcoming the rapids and fierce currents - fingers crossed.

A delightful surprise at Garry Point Park: a show of octopi kites
Going in full swing with the pumpkins this Halloween

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