You watch the lanterns float slowly in the dark sky, their soft lights like small stars on board a gentle sea.
Around you, the street buzzes quietly with laughter and the smell of sweet rice cakes.
You take stock of your evening, wondering if you made the right choice to come despite the steep learning curve of new faces and customs.
It’s harder than you expected to fit in, but you don’t want to take a rain check on this night.
You remember how you once taught students who seemed impossible to reach, how you had to push back against your own doubts.
Now, you think about the regret you carry — that small moment when you chose to throw in the towel and not pick someone’s brain about their dreams.
It felt like a side hustle back then, just a talk through after class, but it was a missed chance, a performance bonus of hope lost.
You try to leverage the courage you still have, to get the ball rolling with a stranger beside you, hoping for a fresh start.
The quiet voice inside says, "Point taken, life moves on," as you help pass out paper lanterns for the next flight.
A little girl pops by, offering a shy smile, and you see in her eyes the same light you almost let go.
Maybe tonight is a debrief, a chance to flesh out new stories, to say yes instead of goodbye.
You smile and nod, ready to drop by this moment again and again, grateful for the gentle glow and the chance to try once more.
