Paper Lanterns

Chapter 1 Φ

Chapter 1 Φ

Maybe it was the darkness that paved way for the light. Or it was the light that took a step back for the darkness to have its place. The sun was bound to settle in the sky when the morning came. And when nighttime fell, it would quietly slip out of the horizon.

It was a phase that happened each day. I'd spent the last five years lost in these thoughts, trying to understand why things happened to us. I wondered if I would ever know the true meaning for each moment that we lived.

It was the night of the Lantern Festival once more, and I watched as the beach became more crowded as the night went on. The cool winds of summer hushed down the heat. Chatters filled the place, especially here where the stalls were located. From afar, you could hear the steady sound of an upbeat music. I hummed along to the song, swinging my legs back and forth. Leaning forward, I placed my hands over my knees and my flip flops lightly brushed against the sand.

It was that time of the year again, when warmth radiated in everyone's eyes and the feeling of serenity resounded in each person's heart. These were the things that perhaps made them come back every year. A flicker of hope that you held on to, enough to keep you going. A wish. A prayer. A string that connected us to the deepest desires in our hearts. It was that time of the year once again.

"Another year, Anna," I whispered to myself. With a deep breath, I closed my eyes and repeated, "Another year."

After several minutes the lights were turned off. Everyone held their breath as the music started to pick up the beat. Opening the main event of this night, the fireworks show brightened the skies. Flashes of light came one by one, like shooting stars momentarily filling up the void.

Gasps were echoed; everyone was dazzled. Soon after, we all forgot what was going on around us—the night and the lingering darkness, or the emptiness in our broken pieces—as our eyes were fixated to the display of bright colors up in the dark skies. They went up with a loud noise, burst into tiny pieces, and quietly faded until they were gone.

It was simply breathtaking. But it burned too bright. Too soon. Too fast. Too beautiful. And in another moment, before one could even memorize what it was like, what had occurred, or what one had felt, just like that, it was gone.

Just like that.

After the firework show ended, the lights were turned on again. I noticed two people walking toward my stall. They were the ones who had bought some lanterns from me a while ago.

When they were standing right outside my stall, I worriedly asked, "Hi! Is there something wrong with the lanterns?"

"No, nothing is wrong with them," the woman around her mid-thirties, holding a child in hand, replied. "But can you give me another one?"

"Mama, I want one. I want one," the little girl demanded. I couldn't help but stare at the sight. It took me back to the place I'd always dreamed to be—a moment I wished I could go back to, and if it were possible, stay. Back to those times when I was just like this little girl. Those days when it had always been my mother and I, inseparable.

"Did she lose her lantern?" I quietly asked.

Her mother answered, "She tore it apart. And now, she's asking for—"

The little girl started to cry. "Sara is sorry, Mama."

"We'll get you a new one, but you have to take care of it, okay?" her mother said, wiping the little girl's nose. "You have to promise."

"Yes, Mama," the little girl replied.

"Same as the last one?" I asked.

"Yes, please," the mother replied.