Solstice
Contrary to my expectations that springtime has arrived, the temperatures were starting to dip below freezing. Many mornings, I would walk to school under the brilliant sun, yet chilled to the bones with the breezes rustling over the cedars. The chilly winds slowly descend into fluffy flecks of snow, dusting the trees in the backyard with a magnificent pristine coat. Despite the wintry weather, signs of the upcoming spring have begun to unveil. Beneath the snowy cover, buds of cherry blossoms and camellia dangled slowly along with the rhythm of the wind, while the sun lingered on the crisp sky long after I got home from school. From the kitchen window, as I gazed at the fireball of a sun setting behind cedars, flocks of junco chattered on the snowy hills, where the piercing cries of seagulls echoed, breaking the tranquillity of a winter dusk.
The end of January was marked by my second Lunar New Year, or Tết, away from Vietnam. We were overjoyed this year to have my cousin joining us, to whom we showed all corners of Richmond and Vancouver. We chatted all day long to recollect the fond memories far away at home while hopping on the Canada Line. Waiting for us at home was the year-end dinner (Tất Niên), which announced its presence by the enchanting smell of the simmering pot of braised pork with eggs, the steaming bowls of white rice, and the zesty homemade pickles. What welcomed us even more was a fresh roll of sweet bánh tét, a traditional glutinous rice wrapped with lush banana leaves and filled with bananas, brought all the way from Vietnam. The whole family marvelled as the red banana filling lay neatly in the shimmering green rice cover, signalling a prosperous year to come. While savoring the tastes of home, we peppered ourselves with stories across the globe and reminisced along with the saccharine melodies of Paris By Night, counting down along with the grandfather clock slowly ticking in the dining room. The musky fragrance of burning incense on the ancestors' altar filled the house, fusing with the piquant scent of pickled onions, transported me back to the blissful days of childhood, when I would sit agog waiting for the dishes to be finished offered to the altar.
The next morning, we continued our tradition by visiting the pagoda to pray for the best to come in the new year. As it was Sunday, I had the luck to explore all corners of the pagoda, where ancient scriptures were engraved on rock gardens surrounded by serene Buddha statues. After an hour of being packed like sardines in the sea of visitors, no words could express my pure relief as I walked on the Steveston pier with an ube ice cream in hand while the salty breezes gently danced. We continued another family tradition preserved even half the globe away: a visit to the café on the first day of Tết. A steaming latte by the foggy seaside was certainly a long way far from refreshing phin-filtered iced coffee basked in the Saigon sunshine, yet the festive atmosphere still remained among our conversations. The day ended with a sumptuous dinner with some other Vietnamese families, whose warmth was more radiant than the red envelopes handed out post-dinner. As I am on the steps toward adulthood this year, the thickness of the envelopes somewhat faded. Yet, the more I grow up, the more I regard Tết as a more spiritual and familial occasion rather than purely receiving lucky money. Or supposedly :)
After Lunar New Year, the atmosphere subsided for a while for me to focus on final exams. Aside from the intense hours of studying, the last days of the first semester were filled with laughter and smile, while farewells and hugs spread across the hallways. Now that an arduous semester is over, I could look back on it fondly with nostalgia. Along with my friends, the once unfamiliar exchange students, who came from all corners of the world, have become so dear to me as we shared all the nooks and crannies of high school: overwatered boba tea, titration struggles, and poker strategies. On the last day of the semester, I stayed late at school for after-school volunteering, wandering across the hallways where I have spent countless hours creating memories, whether almost breaking my fingers during the electromagnetism tests, replying "I'm tired too" to the person sitting next to me after 2pm, or despising pineapple on pizzas with my Italian friends. Then February rolled in with many fresh changes: new classes, new friends, and not-so-new cafeteria menus. In the first few weeks, I would stay back after school to finish building models for an upcoming science contest. The infinite times winding the propellers were rewarded with our model rolling smoothly on the race track, fueling hope for a little bit of legacy left behind by the constantly sleep-deprived seniors. As cliché as it may sound, high school goes by so fast that I struggle to grasp the abundant memories in my hand.
But life isn't just bound in lofty stacks of notes and assignments. A few days after Valentine's Day, I went to the school's Winter Formal, one of the rare social events that I truly anticipated. I arrived at the venue, a country club, half-soaked from Vancouver's torrential downpours and half-worried about dancing for the first time wearing heels. However, my anxieties were dispelled the moment I was seated next to my friends, who continuously delighted me with their witty humor and unyieldingly spicy stories about infinitesimal matters. Overcoming the (suspectedly) half-cooked chicken and paper-thin fries, we chatted and danced the evening away with all our vivacity and ardour of high school. The solemn club members, primly vested in the classical black-and-white portraits that lined the grand hallway, would not have fathomed the zest of today's generation, who were primly dressed in tuxedos and evening gowns but danced their heels out to Mike Posner and Daddy Yankee. At least, seeing the class dressed to the ninth but still keeping their daily quirkiness is always worth remembering.
But not the pain in my heels afterwards.
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