Every year since I was born, my ama would hold a New Year’s Eve party at her house. There would be food, drinks, a band, dance instructors. This one regular guest and his wife would come decked out matching green sequined suits. The younger generation would hide at a dark table to avoid being asked to dance. Inevitably, we’d be found and miserably dragged to a swing or worse, line dance. As midnight approached, the guests would file outside with noisemakers and drink glasses in hand. Everyone counts down together and there go the fireworks display! A cacophonous celebration brings in the new year. Even after my angkong passed away in 2004, the party scaled down to a casual dinner with the relatives and a few fireworks in the garden.

But earlier this week, in a move that shocked the entire family, my ama announced that there will be no New Year’s gathering at her house. Suddenly, on the biggest party night of the year all over the city, we had nowhere to go. My brothers and I paced restlessly around the couch wondering what to do. My dad asked if we wanted to play poker. He’s been bitten by the poker bug in a big way. As for me, I wasn’t sure if a straight beat two pairs. But it’s not like we had plans.

To our surprise, we actually had fun. I took a picture of my first winning hand. Right at that moment the sky outside exploded with lights and cheer.