sometime in the summer, when the sun was setting after 8pm, i started taking walks in my neighborhood at 8pm.
one night, i noticed some little chime sounds coming from one of the stoops of the houses. my body softened and i stood to listen for a little while. i thought it was just something i was happening on at random.
after a few more nights of noticing these sounds at 8pm, it started to dawn on me - this was a nightly ritual shared between two households on my street.
i started looking forward to my 8pm walk, and i would sort of hide myself behind a bush so that i could listen without being intrusive. it’s been more than 6 months of noticing this nightly act. their front doors creak open, one and then the other, and they play their chimes and gongs and singing bowls for an unspecified amount of time, until one of them yells out something that sounds like “soy chen!” and the others respond with the same. (edit: readers have informed me they are likely saying “zaijian” which means “goodbye” in Mandarin Chinese - thank you, friends!)
i don’t make it out every night at 8pm, but i try to often to bask in the gentle glow of witnessing this dedicated act of improvisation, reveling in it especially lately with so much uncertainty in the world.
this odd (and sweet) thing happens on our street every night at 8pm