I had the privilege of visiting Vietnam just before the celebration of Tet–the lunar new year. 2026 is the Year of the Horse. It just so happens that it is also my Chinese Zodiak sign. Horses need room to move–they are independent, don’t like to be hemmed in, and prefer to choose their own path–very much like me.
Everywhere we looked, neighborhoods in Ho Chi Minh City were preparing for the holidays–streamers in gold and red festooned the narrow alleyways. Bright lights and flowers decorated the storefronts. Food preparation was underway. The excitement in the air was palpable.
Buddhists went to the temples to say their prayers, light incense and candles in memory of their loved ones who have passed–one of the many rituals that provide comfort and continuity.
That same blend of remembrance and forward motion finds its way into Embracing Joy, in a scene that unfolds during a Tet celebration in Providence, RI. I hope you enjoy the following excerpt from my forthcoming novel.
From Embracing Joy
Tet—the Lunar New Year—is a time of remembrance, renewal, and intention.
They removed their shoes before entering the temple. Inside, the air was warm and dim, heavy with the sweet, resinous scent of burning incense. Red glass filtered the light. Dario drew in a quiet breath as he took in the golden Buddha statue, serene and centered on the main altar, flanked by smaller figures Alyssa had told him were bodhisattvas. Red candles flickered steadily near vases of white chrysanthemums.
Dario stood beside Alyssa as she lit the incense and bowed three times—slowly, deliberately. She stood still afterward, eyes closed, palms lightly together. He felt the silence settle deep within him—so deep that when she finally moved, it startled him. He closed his eyes and breathed his thanks—to her ancestors, and to God.
A sudden crack split the air as they stepped back outside. Dario jumped just as children tugged eagerly at their parents, drums beginning to thrum somewhere down the block. Alyssa grabbed his hand and laughed. “Come on, Santoro,” she said. “The dragon dance is starting.”
The dragons surged into view—bright, absurd, and gloriously alive. Beneath them, the dancers’ feet pounded the pavement in exuberant rhythm. The street pulsed with noise and color: children shouting, adults smiling indulgently, joy spilling everywhere. Dario felt himself give in to it—the reckless happiness of the moment.
They drank standing up, laughing shoulder to shoulder as they sampled ice-cold Vietnamese lager. Alyssa disappeared briefly into the crowd and returned with foil-wrapped skewers. “Nem nướng,” she said. “Close your eyes.” He did, obediently, chewing slowly as smoky, sweet grilled pork filled his mouth.
“This,” he said solemnly, gesturing to the skewer, “is dangerous.”
She grinned. They wandered, tasting and laughing, fireworks bursting overhead. Dario watched Alyssa move through the celebration—open, radiant, uncontained—and understood something fundamental about her joy. It wasn’t reckless. It was generous.
They leaned into one another as another rocket exploded high above the street.
Together.
On our first night in Ho Chi Minh City, we took a guided street food walking tour—it was indescribably delicious and so varied. I tried to capture that in the excerpt above.
Whichever calendar you observe, I hope that 2026 brings you many blessings.
Thanks for tuning in,
Margaret
Leave a Reply