So, my sister and I showed up for this party at 9:30 pm. Mind you, I am usually in my bed, face washed, teeth brushed and near zonked out at this hour. But, not this night. I threw a black dress on over my pajamas and headed out. We pulled up and looked in the window from our car and saw only Nepalese family members. I told Jill to turn the car lights off and we sat in the parking lot and watched, we wondered if there had been some mistake. were we really invited? I looked to my left and there was another car parked next to us, a woman about our age, doing the same thing. Lights off, peering into the window, wondering, am I invited? My sister and I looked at each other, after a few "Should we?"s and said, "Let's do it."  We got out of the car, and shyly shuffled to the doorway. Then we heard music. Pumping music, like in a club. We both looked at each other in fear, Oh, God, what are we doing. We turned into 5 year olds. Pushing and shoving each other, trying to make the other go in first. In all honesty, I pulled out a whopper in that moment. I reminded her that the last time we were shoving each other to go into the room first, was when Dad was dying. The doctor had just told me the cancer had spread beyond anything that could be cured and I didn't want to tell my Dad. Right before entering the room, I said, Jill, will you tell him? And she said, No. So, I did. I told him. I felt she owed me one, so I pulled out a whopper.  It didn't work. She still said no. So, I shoved her in anyway. Then she pulled me in with her. And there we were, standing in the middle of Mirch Masala, with the Nepalese family and Bollywood hip hop music blasting. Little did we know another couple, Jim and Cindy, were behind us as we entered. They saw the whole shoving match and laughed. And then said, "We were waiting in our car, and when we saw you, we were brave enough to come in." So, apparently on this Sunday night, we all felt a little afraid to do something new. I saw the woman who was sitting in the car next to us come in. She must have waited for a friend. And there we were, drinking chai, eating dal and laughing. Then the dancing started.

About ten men, all ages, jumped in front of the buffet and started dancing. I mean dancing. They were shaking everything, singing at the top of their lungs and having a good ol' time together. They invited us in a few times, but we were hesitant. That didn't stop them one bit, they kept dancing. After a few songs and a couple cups of chai, my sister and I jumped out, and pulled out some of our hip hop moves from class. Then the Nepalese grandmother, wise with her sari and bindi (the red dot in between the eyebrows), jumped out and danced with us. When we were done, we all clapped and laughed together. It felt like family.

Later, when I got home, I looked up what this festival was.  I learned that this was the Nepalese festival of Dashain- where the people honor the goddess Durja and celebrate that good overcomes evil. We went having no idea what we were celebrating. It didn't matter. We danced, laughed, ate, got out of our heads. That is reason enough to celebrate.