Trilogy to Spring Festival

( Chinaculture.org ) Updated: 2016-01-24 10:55

[Photo/Xinhua]

By Cao Xinghua (曹兴华), who won the second prize of the 2015 Just Share It contest.

Spring Festival is the most joyful occasion when we Chinese get into the full swing of celebrating the beginning of a new year, the happiness from which is reflected in both the material wealth we create and the pride we take in showing ourselves to the world. For each individual, what matters most is how we can fully employ all our senses to observe, hear, smell and feel the joyful atmosphere and get involved in it vigorously and enthusiastically. The taste of Spring Festival varies depending on different eras.

Part 1

When I was a kid back in the 1980s, Spring Festival was more like an expensive commodity. In hard times, every human being was in fervent expectation of an affluent New Year. For small kids, the season held boundless fun to explore. I can well remember on a cold spring morning, my brother and I romped across our courtyard, joking and giggling, watching mum struggling to fetch cabbages from our family cellar. I saw strings of red dried peppers dancing on parallel clotheslines like thousands of little red flags. I saw my grandma, bending over the sink, washing up fish and chicken under the cold faucet. I can smell the inviting aroma of domestic cuisine wafting through alleys, floating above the quiet village, and finding its way into people’s nostrils. I can hear sporadic sounds of firecrackers and lively music flowing from some household gramophones near or far… Then with a metallic click, our front door swung open. My grandpa appeared at the doorway, coming back from his weekly shower, followed by my father and his big-wheeled bicycle, together with bags of food and daily necessities on the back saddle. Poking her head out the kitchen door, my grandma yelled cheerfully to us all that dinner was ready. The joyful atmosphere continued to accumulate until midnight when the celebration came to a climax with continuous blasts of firecrackers.

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.