Waiting for the fireworks. Of course we pick the show that gets held up by extra innings in the minor league baseball game. But I missed all the fireworks last year and I really want to see some.
Bottom of the 12th and still no show. And we have 30 miles to drive home. And I hate exit traffic. But the fireworks!
Perhaps it will be over soon, and we will see the show. Or perhaps we will just have to make do with what we could see over the trees in the distance. They were pretty, but you can guarantee that I will be working on a better spot to watch next year. They really do mean summer to me.
… … …
I remember one of my first times to go watch fireworks was after the laser show at Stone Mountain. I was with my parents and the youth group that Dad was working with at the time. I can’t remember if we were still living in Greensboro or if we had moved to Columbus yet. I was young maybe five, or seven.
We watched the green lasers shine a story and a history over the rock face of the mountain, with the finish as the fill in of the carving that was never completed of the four men on horseback from the Civil War.
And then the fireworks.
Huge noises and bright lights.
I didn’t like it at all.
I still don’t like loud noises, and I kept getting startled as each next explosion shook the air.
With my hands on my ears, and shaky knees I turned from the sky and cowered. My mother asked me if I was enjoying it, and said that I should watch, see, look at all the different pretty colors and patterns.
Yeah. I wasn’t having it.
… … …
Since then, I have come to love the crash and boom and beautiful light display that is fireworks. I still have to cover my ears if they are too close, but I love watching and experiencing the controlled explosions that have become an art. Now I try to see them whenever I can, but sometimes I want to get home before midnight, and the game goes into the thirteenth inning. So this year my mother and I will light sparklers and dance around in the yard at my home. And we will be happy.