Silk Umbrellas by Carolyn Marsden Read Free Book Online Page A

time,
thought Noi. Every year she and Ting lit the lamps together.
    “Let’s outline the path with the lights,” Ting suggested.
    “And if there’s some left over, we can put them under the trees.”
    They began to light the one hundred and sixty-one lamps, each a tiny flame of gratitude to the Buddha. For Noi, each strike of the match also represented a tiny request:
Let me be a painter!
    The pigs followed, sniffing at the lamps.
    Kun Mere hung the lotus-shaped lantern from a branch, the streamers rippling in the breeze.

The night of Loy Krathong, the night of the twelfth full moon, carried the first crisp hint of winter.
    Kun Ya walked hesitantly, as though the cold air had gotten into her knees.
    Noi held one of her arms, Ting the other, dressed in the festival clothes that Noi had ironed. Kun Pa and Kun Mere went ahead, talking softly.
    “Look, Kun Ya.” Noi pointed out a cluster of earthen lanterns under the trees, the hanging lanterns close to the houses.
    “And look,” said Kun Ya. She pointed to the
hinghoy
bobbing in and out of the trees, as though they, too, were celebrating.
    When the path led into a clearing near the river, the
kome loy
, huge, soft, orange lanterns, floated freely in the sky. Noi saw the flicker of the fires that heated and lifted them. As the
kome
drifted away, so would bad luck.
    Could those beautiful lanterns save
her
from bad luck? Noi wondered. Or was it just a foolish belief? In spite of all the ceremony, next year might she, too, come running from the factory when Loy Krathong was almost over?
    As the path widened and joined another path, Kun Pa and Kun Mere greeted villagers on their way to the river,
sawasdees
rippling into the cold air.
    Noi smelled the sweet, earthy river plants. Here and there, people were lighting their candles. The full moon rose over the horizon like a coin of good fortune.
Krathong
had already been set free, the dark shapes of the floating baskets and the tiny flames reflected in the golden, moonlit water.
    “Listen, Ting.” Noi shivered with excitement. “People must be dancing. I hear a big drum and tiny cymbals.”
    A boy chased a girl on the other side of the river, their giggles bouncing through the cold air. Another couple sat close under a low-hanging tree.
    Noi stared into the current alive with flames. The spirits of water lived here — especially tonight.
    She felt Kun Pa’s sleeve brush hers.
    “You go first, Noi.”
    “Oh, let someone else . . . ,” she started to say.
    “I’ll come with you,” Kun Ya said softly.
    With one hand, Noi held the
krathong
with its precious cargo, and with the other, she supported Kun Ya’s arm, steadying her. Damp grass brushed against Noi’s legs as she walked to the river. The touch was like the caress of the river spirits.
    When they knelt together on the bank, Noi sensed her family standing behind her. Kun Pa leaned over her shoulder and struck a match, and Noi shielded the flame with her hands. First he lit the incense stick. The sweet smoke spiraled into the air. Then he touched the flame to the wick of the candle, holding it until the flame transferred itself.
    Noi set the
krathong
on the water, balanced it, and, with a quick flutter of her hands, pushed it away from the bank.
    “Mae Nam,” Mother Water, Noi whispered. She prayed that the basket would float on this river until it reached the larger river downstream. If the
krathong
arrived at that wide current, surely her dreams would come true.
    “Mae Nam,” echoed Kun Ya.
    The basket began its journey on the golden water. The
krathong
got caught in an eddy and swirled around three times before heading downstream.
    When it joined the others, Noi suddenly couldn’t tell which was hers. She rose up on tiptoe, trying to fix her eyes on the tiny flame.
    When the basket had surely gone, merged forever with the other
krathong
, Noi turned to see the golden moonlight reflected in Kun Ya’s eyes.
    “You can’t do anymore tonight, little