We’ll All Float On.
Happy Loy Krathong!
We met at a brewery that was dead upon our 4:45ish landing. One by one, friends arrived and then made hug rounds. We’d catch up briefly, then greet the next arrival to the table. It felt sort of like waiting at baggage claim at an airport, except everyone that came through the door was someone you loved and needed to touch. I hugged a friend I hadn’t seen in a few weeks, and her perfume lingered on my scarf. Before I left the table she’d texted me the scent, and I ordered it. Some things are meant to be taken with you. The group chattered along, and for the first time I looked around and felt like Christmas was coming. The energy at the table was more siblings than friends, with loud stories and extreme amounts of polite roasting. It was like being home for the holidays. And then the supplies arrived.
We were meeting because our friend Billi asked us to cast our bad luck and bad blood into the river to celebrate Loy Krathong. Billi is the kind of person who will do anything for you, so when she asked if anyone would be interested, she was met with emphatic yeses from nearly everyone.
Yes, of course we want to make boats out of banana leaves and ask the goddess of the river to bless us.
Yes, of course we want to let things go and welcome in abundance.
Yes, of course we'll make a night of it.
Loy Krathong takes place during the twelfth month of the traditional Thai lunar calendar, when the full moon is high in the sky. This year's holiday fell on a Monday, when I think all of us needed it most. Participants are invited to create vessels of natural materials like banana leaves and float them down the river to symbolically wash away grudges, bad luck, misfortune, and wrongdoings.
“Don’t google photos of boats or you’ll feel bad about yourself,” Billi advised as she passed out our building supplies. We stabbed toothpicks into leaves and willed them to be boat-shaped. When my banana leaf folding skills failed me, I made ribbons, braids, and cut out hearts and passed them around. Our boats were not magnificent, they were not traditionally beautiful. “If it sinks fast, my mom says that means your wish will come true faster. I don’t think that’s true, but we can pretend.”
Before long it was time to make the trek to the river. It was cold, and we were all bundled in a way that suggested we’re not in the habit of dressing for the frigid winter quite yet. We set our rickety boats in the water, and made bids for good luck and fortune. We allowed the Cumberland River to wash away the things that were holding us back and we invited more goodness and joy into our lives. Our boats bobbed along, heavy with wishes.
None of them sank quickly, they all went along carrying our candles and our offerings. We lingered as long as possible watching them twinkle against the skyline. As we bid our banana boats goodbye, my friend Steph looked at the river and said, “This is my favorite holiday.”
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