I wish...

I’m not a fan of New Year’s Eve. Don’t get me wrong. I love sipping champagne or a few “R & Rs” while getting dolled up with my girlfriends. And, I do embrace the gathering of friends and the drinking of copious amounts of alcohol. I don’t mind that all the restaurants and bars are overcrowded and over-priced (I avoid them anyway). What I dislike about New Year’s Eve is that it is New Year’s Eve. It’s a holiday that’s inherent existence obligates you to take an inventory of your life as it stands at the end of another year gone by and on the eve of a new one. (Not to mention that it always sneaks up on me). But this year, I did something different.

On the eve of 2009, the crowds converged around Hanoi’s Hoan Kiem Lake, bringing traffic to a near standstill and creating a carnival-like atmosphere. Some toted bunches of brightly colored balloons, others sold incense and other offerings to leave at the pagoda’s alter, but most were there simply to take part in the celebration.


My friends and I arrived at the fringe of the festivities by taxi, and we quickly realized that we’d have to go by foot to get through the crowded streets. As we weaved single-file in, out, and around the idling motorbikes going nowhere, we took in the sight of dozens of brightly lit lanterns drifting gracefully upward above the chaos below. It was beautiful, and in that moment, amid the exhaust fumes and honking horns, I knew that no New Year’s resolution was going to bring me closer to what I wanted for 2009.


I set my sights on finding a lantern of my own. Like a Buddhist prayer sent into the wind, I was determined to send my wish out into the world. Among thousands of people, it was a seemingly impossible mission like searching for the pot of gold at the end of a rainbow except nothing has ever felt more possible. At the stroke of midnight, I made my wish and watched it float away into the night sky. I didn’t revisit regrets or make any half-hearted pledges for the coming year. Instead, I was reminded of a different time. For that evening, I was filled with hope and faith and I believed again in the childish magic of wishing upon a star.