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My Favorite Night of the Year - Chinese New Year's Eve!
Chinese New Year is my absolute favorite time of the whole year! The celebrations, the decorations, the special food, the family gatherings - I love it all. But most of all, I love Chinese New Year's Eve and setting off fireworks and firecrackers with my cousins and friends. It's the most exciting and magical night of the entire year.
Ever since I was really little, like 3 or 4 years old, I remember staying up late into the night on Chinese New Year's Eve. The grown-ups would let us kids stay up way past our normal bedtimes. We would be so hyper and giddy with anticipation as the late evening hours ticked away. Finally, when the clock struck midnight, theskies would light up with explosions of color and sounds of pops and bangs! Fireworks and firecrackers everywhere you looked, lighting u
p the neighborhood. It was like a kaleidoscope of glittering fireworks surrounding us in every direction.
My grandpa always took me and my cousins out into the street just after midnight to light our own strings of firecrackers. We'd link those red crackers together into a long braid, making sure they were nice and tight. Then grandpa would let me use a long safety lighter to ignite the fuse on the first firecracker. I remember nervously scooting back and covering my ears, my heart pounding with exhilaration as I watched the fuse burn towards the firecrackers. Then suddenly, the first firecracker would explode with a thundering bang! And the next one would go off, and the next, and the next in POP POP POP POP! Flashes of red flame and smoke spurting out as each firecracker detonated, feeling the mini-explosions reverberate in my chest as I squealed with laughter and delight.
Grandpa always stocked up on those long strings of firecrackers for me and my cousins. We'd link together several strings into a super mega braid, creating an epic 100-firecracker fuse. Then we'd take turns lighting the fuses and scattering, dancing around gleefully as th
e incredibly long line of firecrackers erupted in a frenzy of pops and bangs and smoke. We'd be crying with laughter and joy as the epic string of crackers finally sputtered to an end, leaving a long trail of smoke and spent red casings littering the street.
After we exhausted our stash of firecrackers, we'd turn our attention to the bigger, more spectacular fireworks being shot into the sky. My dad always splurged on an awesome assortment of bombshells, cakes, rockets, and fountains. We'd ooh and ahh as he lined up the hefty canisters and multi-shot tubes on the sidewalk, attaching the fuses in preparation.
First my dad would light a fountain firework that would spew a spiral ofglittering sparks high into the air for what seemed like forever. As the sparkling fountain still sizzled, he'd quickly ignite a rocket that would whistle up into the stratosphere before bursting into a kaleidoscope of colors and shimmering pistil effects hung suspended against the inky night sky. Before that dazzling burst even faded, another rocket would streak upwards, exploding in a willow cascade of glittering gold and green raining tendrils.
One after another, my dad and uncles would frantically light a barrage of fireworks, the d
eafening crackles and concussions shaking the ground as cosmos-bursting shells and multi-shot cakes painted the night in every shade of vivid reds, blues, greens, silvers and golds. Shimmering brocades of fire, bombarding willows, palms and chrysanthemum patterns filling the air in rapid succession, each explosion more mesmerizing than the last.
As kids, our eyes would be saucers, our minds blown away by the pyrotechnic exhibition. So many colors, so many intricate fireworks designs, so much noise and chaos and smoke and beauty! We'd be jumping up and down cheering deliriously as if at a rock concert as the grand finale assaultof sky-bursting shells lit up the neighborhood brighter than daylight.
As the final fuses sputtered out, we'd all pause to catch our breath and watch the smoke gradually clear, leaving just the lingering sulfurous scent and glowing embers on the sidewalk. Our ears would be ringing, our palms stinging from clapping so hard, our hearts still pounding from the excitement. We were always stunned into silence after the grand finale barrage ended, solemnly staring up at the empty, smoke-tinged sky with a sense of melancholy that it was all over for another year.
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