My parents came to America thirty years ago—well, my dad came here a little earlier—but for my whole life, it’s just been my mom, my dad and my big brother; the rest of my family still lives in Taiwan. So, when it comes to Chinese New Year, our traditions are a little different, or should I say, flexible.

As children, my brother and I were like any other kid who came from a family that celebrated the lunar new year: we looked forward to 紅包 (hong bao) payday. Or should I say, those red envelopes stuffed with crisp, new bills, which all of my non-Asian friends knew about/were eager to know about; in the spirit of the holiday, I gave them sacks of chocolate coins. As for other Asian kids who had extended family in the states, they made their rounds and collected red envelopes like the tax man from hell.

We never had the grand feast, but we always made it out to the temple to 拜拜 (bai bai: pray), and we also ended up with a ton of 年糕 (nian gao: steamed rice cakes—usually flavored with red bean, sesame, mung beans, green tea or kokutou aka Okinawan brown sugar—and 蘿蔔糕 (luobo gao: savory daikon cakes), which we continue to make, freeze and eat throughout the year.

When my brother went off to college—when I was ten-years-old—we stopped going to the temple we had been going to since I was younger. Since then, we still celebrate the new year (I mean, duh, of course), but our celebrations have varied throughout the subsequent years.

Ever since I started to drive—when I was seventeen-years-old or so—it’s been my own personal tradition to go to Hsi Lai Temple (西來寺) to ring in the new year, pray and make an offering. In the past, my parents used to go without me because I was away at school or was busy with work and various other things, so I’d go on my own time. I go to the temple throughout the year, but usually on my blue days, so visiting during the new years celebration is always a little different because of the hopeful, happy and celebratory vibe.

A couple of years ago, my mom and I visited our old temple and helped the monks arrange fruits and pastries for offerings, as well as help with cooking. It had been over ten years since I had been to that temple, and for the monks that were around when I was a kid, it was a surprise for them to see that I am now taller than three feet (shock!). After that, we went to 99 Ranch Market and celebrated in our own modest way: shared an order of freshly made new year’s moaji (mochi), generously sprinkled with peanut powder. The leftovers went to Dad, of course. Hehe.

My college roommate Denise used to always celebrate the new year with me in her own little way. My favorite memory is from junior year. After waking up, I discovered the dorm had long since been evacuated for the weekend, but when I looked down at my desk from the top bunk, I noticed a breakfast baggie with a Post-it attached to it that read: Happy Chinese New Year, Roomie! ♥, Denise. When I opened it, I discovered she had ordered my favorite breakfast baggie: a veggie scrambled egg burrito, orange juice and an apple. Also, she jokingly piled the bag high with single-serve Tapatio hot sauce packets. You guys don’t know me that well, yet, but I am a freak for Tapatio, so that was especially heartwarming (or heart burning, rather).

Last year, my brother was still on military assignment in Africa, but his fiancee stopped by for an impromptu visit. Despite living in the general vicinity, it had been a year since I had seen her as my brother had been gone for that long, so we were really happy that she thought of us on new years. She came with a fruit basket, we chatted for awhile, and we sent her off with 台湾凤梨酥 (Taiwanese pineapple cakes). Seems pretty mundane, right? But it’s one of the best new years I’ve ever had.

With Chinese Year’s right around the bend, I look back and realize that although we never had big celebrations and have never been able to spend it with our extended relatives, one thing is very clear: our new years have always been full of love and food. I usually spend my (Western) New Years Eve with friends, but I can’t imagine spending Chinese New Year with anyone but my family members. As the years go on, and as my family grows up and further apart, this is one of the many moments that really count. Pardon the sap, but even if we can’t spend it together, they’re always there in my heart. I guess you could say my Christmas spirit is planted in Chinese New Years.

Anyhow, this year is especially important to me as it is the year of the ox—I’m the stubborn cow, if you haven’t noticed. I clearly remember the last time it was the year of the ox (the Chinese zodiac goes on a twelve-year cycle), but I was too young to really reflect upon it. So, now at 23-years-old, older, and hopefully a little wiser, this year is especially important to me. Hence, the retrospective kick I’m on right now… ^^;

For those of you who celebrate the lunar new year, what are some of your best memories and favorite traditions? Actually, this goes out to everyone, regardless of what you may or may not celebrate!