Mila stood tentatively in the crowd, staring toward the water along with everyone else. The moon’s light reflected across the deep blue, glinting silver laced in the churning waves. A low hum filled the air, anxious voices chatting among each other. We knew not to express our impatience, for that would anger the spirits.

The day before every solstice, our island’s folks would hold a ceremony to please the heaven’s gods so they can open the portal to the spirit world the next day. Dancing, sacrificing of harvest, toasts, and many other rituals are held. On the night before the solstice, the tide would recede and reveal a bridge to the other world. When the clock strikes midnight, the sky would rip open and reveal a world where the dead resides.

You didn’t have to search for your long lost ones. They would find you. For they have been waiting as well for this day to reunite with their loved ones. Celebration would take place throughout the day. No one would sleep; they wouldn’t want to miss a single minute of this special day. And when it turns dark again, everyone stuffed with delicious pastries and tired from the long day, the spirits slowly drift back to the rip in the sky. Then the clock strikes midnight once again, and everything turns back to normal.

Mila peered up at the wooden clock tower on the bay. Half past eleven. She draws in a shaky breath and turns back toward the horizon. This was going to be the first time visiting her mother during a solstice.

‘I hope she’ll forgive me,’ she thought, gulping down the knot that had formed in her throat.