A vivid Dragon Boat Festival memory

The shrill blast of a whistle shatters the morning stillness, instantly transporting me back to a Dragon Boat Festival from my primary school days. That year, my siblings, aunt, and I elbowed our way through the bustling riverside crowd, eager to witness the legendary race. The air was electric—filled with the sweet aroma of zongzi wafting from street stalls, the earthy scent of the river, and the distant tang of sweat and determination from the rowers.
As the starting signal echoed, six dragon - shaped boats, each painted in vivid hues of crimson, gold, and emerald, lunged forward. The water churned into frothy white as dozens of oars dipped and rose in perfect harmony. Drummers perched at the front of each boat pounded their instruments with ferocity, the thunderous beats syncing with the rowers' strokes. Shouts of "Hai ya! Hai ya!" thundered from the teams, blending with the spectators' cheers.
Suddenly, a sickening crack pierced the din. One boat listed sharply to the side, its polished wooden hull scraping against another. In a heart - stopping moment, it capsized, sending the crew flailing into the water. Gasps rippled through the crowd, but to our amazement, the fallen rowers surfaced quickly, grinning and helping each other back onto their boat. Their spirit ignited a new wave of applause, louder than before.
After the race, we huddled under a shady tree, savoring sticky zongzi, tender rice meat, and tea - stained eggs. The rich flavors were a perfect end to the exhilarating morning.
Reflecting on that day, I realize the Dragon Boat Festival is more than just a race. It’s a celebration of perseverance and unity. The way the fallen crew didn’t give up, and the crowd’s instant shift from shock to support, taught me that setbacks can be overcome with resilience and collective strength. It’s a lesson that still resonates with me today.