Trilogy to Spring Festival

Updated: 2015-03-11 15:53

 Part 2

The past is serene and without too much pressure. As I entered my teens and subsequently my twenties, the tempo of life switched to another volume. With people’s pockets bulging, Spring Festival was no longer a luxury we dreamed to obtain. It was more like an annual ceremony on which we all gathered around our aged parents and shared the most beautiful life stories. The typical feature went like this: My mother and I sat face-to-face across the kitchen table making dumplings, while we talked softly, exchanging opinions on issues like my academic achievements. My father, a gifted calligrapher who always wrinkled his nose up at housework, was absorbed in writing on a red piece of paper the memorial invitation to relatives in honor of my deceased grandpa. At that special moment, my lazy brother was also called to help. At round 8 pm when the national gala show was on, our whole family gathered and melted into the warm atmosphere of soft light, crystal wine glasses, steaming dumplings and fragrant flowers, forgetting about time, troubles, and everything.

Part 3

Time flies; seasons alternate; what remains unchanged is people’s nostalgic feelings to the traditional festival. Spring 2015 marks my fifth wedding anniversary. In the past 5 years, my husband and I have been striving hard to manage our small cozy nest. Spring Festival to a married couple is more like Fathers’ Day or Mothers’ Day. For seniors, nothing is more blessing than getting along well with their children and grandchildren. The prior year witnessed two lovely angels joining into our family. Retired at home, my aging parents find more pleasure in following the toddlers around, talking them into good behavior and playing games with them. I couldn’t imagine a more peaceful picture.

Part of our celebration is still about shopping, cleaning, and cooking, but spending time with my baby is the top concern. While I was preparing dinner in the kitchen, the little one sat on a rug, playing with his toys leisurely and cheerfully. Maybe, with his innocent intelligence, he has sensed the festive mood today. In our city, 9 p.m. is the time for the fireworks display. Standing on the balcony with my boy, we could see blooming patterns of lighted lilies, laburnums and umbrellas hovering above the night sky. Craning forward at the blazing spectacle, my boy hailed excitedly. Maybe he won’t remember the moment when he snuggles up to my embrace watching fireworks. One day he might relive that unforgettable moment by reading my diary.

Conclusion: Life moves on in endless cycles. With each passing year, we may become somehow different, more mature and wiser, that is. No one can stop the steps of time. Whatever our age, we should treat each day as that special occasion of New Year’s Eve and live our life to the fullest.