At 11:47 p.m. on the last night of the old year, our courtyard is still being assembled. A red lantern swings above the gate; paper windows catch a dozen small lights. The ritual is a decision to make room.
Make room for the light
In Chengdu, my grandmother kept the radio on while we folded paper, argued over dumplings, and wrote the same wish on every envelope: 让新年有光. A new year should feel inhabited before it feels new.