Our connection to Laos, and to Luang Prabang in particular, is first and foremost a family one. My grandmother was born there in the early twentieth century, to a French father who was a member of the École Française d’Extrême Orient (French School of Asian Studies) and a mother who was a native of Luang Prabang.

In 2005, I travelled to Laos to trace my grandmother’s footsteps, hoping to reconnect with our Laotian family. With the help of the venerable monk of Luang Prabang, I found a cousin, and a thread that had been broken for over 75 years was rewoven.

Twenty years on, in 2025, we finally managed to bring the family together for a trip to Laos, spanning several generations. It was a chance to honour the memory of a grandmother and great-grandmother with Laotian roots, to share a piece of our family history with the younger ones, and to meet our sponsored children at long last, seven years into our sponsorships.

We made our way to the school for deaf children where our sponsored children study. As we walked in, we were all struck by the stillness of the place, so unlike the bustle of a typical playground. Inside the classroom, the children sat cross-legged in neat rows of five, watching us with bright, curious smiles. We settled down facing them, touched by the silent warmth of their welcome.

Each introduction prompted a flurry of sign language that we did our best to follow, filling the room with the soft rustle of hands. A round of questions quickly took shape, each answer met with ripples of excitement, surprise or laughter: what is the weather like in Canada right now (where my niece lives)? What class is she in? What are your favourite sports? Soon it was time to head outside, and everyone gravitated naturally towards those of a similar age or shared interests, while the children were keen to teach us a word or two of sign language.

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Later that day, we met two more of our sponsored children, who had spent the morning competing in a sports event. They arrived wearing gold and silver medals around their necks, earned in long jump and athletics. They were clearly thrilled to be meeting us on such a proud day.

With the help of a translation app, we tried our best to ask a few questions in English, translated into Lao, curious to know more about their lives, their days, their dreams. We had come with so many questions. They were simply happy to be there, fully present in the moment. In the end, we put the questions aside and sat together quietly. Words were no longer needed. The emotion spoke for itself, in the looks we shared and those we could not quite hold.

By the time we said our goodbyes, the day had flown by. We have no way of knowing what our sponsored children or their classmates made of it all. We can only hope that they will keep the memory of that afternoon as fondly as we will. Two worlds, briefly brought together. And yet, some encounters leave their mark long after the goodbyes.