It must be the special hustle and bustle in my city in the afternoon of a 28 Tet like today. There have been a lot of times when we don't get to enjoy the magical 29 Tet (I haven't the faintest idea about the lunar calendar, so don't ask me why); however, to me, when it comes to Tet, 28 is just about equal to 29. Once they all meant eagerness and jubilation.
Have I ever said that I hate shopping? Yet I walked around shops yesterday. Almost all places are blanketed in the festival ambiance, but in this country the ambiance is the same on any holiday - National Day, Mid-Autumn, Christmas, New Year... you name it. It is simply not Tet, despite the fact that shopping centers are decorated with red ornament (they try to make it Chinese, it looks pretty much like X'mas though), and that hundreds of queues in front of cashiers are showing myriad smiling eyes and rosy cheeks.
Around the cannot-be-any-smaller table where I'm sitting, apparently it doesn’t appear to be an extraordinary day. Out of the window, cars and buses are running, the neighbors are as reserved as they've always been, and few weak rays of sunlight are trying to pierce the falling dusk. Inside the house, time stands still.
I've been burying myself in "The Time Traveler's Wife" since early morn', and the prelude goes, "It's hard being left behind... It's hard to be the one who stays. I kept myself busy. Time goes faster that way." I'm helping myself get used to the sound of suitcases hauled off along bricked paths towards cab stands - undeniably, it's always nice to be home, and so, hard to resist thinking about it when you're alone in a big house. I used to scoff at the thought of holing up in a corner on such a big occasion; yet now I'm looking at my impractical shoes, small purses that can't even hide a folded umbrella, shrugging my shoulders, and for no reason I like the ideas of continuing to give myself a haircut while waiting for the kettle to boil, of having a simple dinner with bread, pickles, and a mug of milk, and of leaving my hair damp from washing while crawling around the house to find something to shoot with my old-fashioned camera. It sounds pathetic, but unexpectedly those are the things that can now pierce me with some excitement.
It doesn't feel like Tet at all. When something is in the air but not in your soul, it isn't what you might want to live for. I'll let my attention wander for a while, and who knows, Tet may be back soon. Very soon.
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