Silence fell upon the Tian family home on Feb. 17. The ceilings and walls were bare of the normal red decorations, the TV was oddly silent, and the traditional nian ye fan feast was absent from the kitchen island. It was Lunar New Year, but there was no spirit for celebrations.
This year, for the first time, my entire family was not together during the Lunar New Year. My mom and sister were out of town. Despite not having an immediate family to spend the holiday with, I was able to celebrate with my friends and people around me, helping me to appreciate the community that never fails to support and embrace me.
Lunar New Year is celebrated all across Asia; many schools and workplaces in Asia take breaks during this time to ensure everyone is able to return home and celebrate with their family and loved ones. Red decorations line every door, and firecrackers explode from morning to night to scare away the bad luck monsters. People wear traditional clothing like qi pao, hanbok, and kimono in hopes of wealth and prosperity for the upcoming year. The holiday focuses heavily on the unity of the nation and strengthening familial bonds.
Even though I grew up in the United States away from my grandparents and extended family, my parents still made an effort to share these traditions with me. Instead of huge family gatherings, we made do with our family of four. Squeals of excitement would fill our home when someone found the lucky coin dumpling and giggles would erupt while we watched comedy performances of the Spring Gala. The lively spirit of new years never faltered when we were together.
But this year, for the first time, we weren’t together. With just me and my dad at home, I slumped into my blanket covers and rotted through the day. Unexpectedly, as the day approached dinner time, I received a call from a family friend’s mom who invited us over to have dinner. Knowing we were missing half our family, she insisted we go to her house. When we arrived, I was shocked to see all the families that had gathered together. While some families were in similar situations as me and my dad, other families had just lost loved ones and were hoping to still enjoy the chaotic, light hearted celebrations.
The dads rolled out the dough skins one by one as the moms started mixing and wrapping the pork dumpling filling. It was another perfectly chaotic holiday. When I gave up on celebrating Lunar New Year, friends showed up and reminded me of the familial comfort community can bring. For people who don’t share the same blood, they’ve never failed to feel like family.
On Chu er, the day after Lunar New Year, I was inspired to act upon my newfound appreciation of community. I invited friends to wrap wontons for dinner together, some of whom didn’t have any family nearby to celebrate with. We struggled through broken wrapping skins and leaked filling, but ultimately seven bowls of beef broth soup wontons warmed our hearts and bellies. Flour covered the kitchen surface, soup spilled across the floor, and slurping sounded loudly at the dining table as we ate.
In the first phase of this Lunar New Year event, I felt the open and warm arms of those around me and experienced the subtle acts of support my community had always offered. I understood I shouldn’t just accept this embrace, but offer it back. In this new Lunar New Year, I hope to provide the call of invitation I was fortunate enough to receive.
