She...

I dreamt about Diggity last night.

 

The last time we spoke wasn’t good.

 

There was a misunderstanding that escalated out of control.

 

I got scared. Concerned and then scared.

 

She was off the rails.

 

When I finally got her to stop, breathe, and listen. She heard me.

 

She told me to not call her because she wasn’t well.

 

She told me she would explain later.

 

Months later I got an apology letter. She asked for forgiveness and told me that she would understand if I didn’t want to be her friend anymore.

 

I sent a return letter forgiving her because she seemed to need it. I wasn’t offended by what had happened. I was more concerned at her agitated state and incoherent screaming.

 

I told her I still wanted to be her friend however she needed me and that I’d always be there to support her.

 

It’s been 6 years.

 

3 years ago her mother died so I sent a card with my number. Asking her to call or write so I know she’s ok.

 

I worry about her and think about her at odd times.

 

I wonder what she’s doing. I hope she hasn’t tripped down that path she’s been to before. And before that, and then before that time.

 

The one that is so dark and dangerous.

ps - one-legged tripod

 

Oh say can you see...

My eyes tilt up towards the sky just as the explosion of red, white, and blue burst out into twinkles.




The screaming of the whistlers as they fall towards the ground. A trail of golden dust following them all the way down.




The boom of the firework rattles my chest cavity as the sound blasts through me and echoes off the hill behind me. A double whammy.




I can't keep the smile off my face.




I love fireworks. The bigger the better.




Always have and always will.




The moment I know these gems are in the neighborhood, I can feel the skip in my step. A smile creeps onto my face I can't help it. They make me happy. I don't want to miss it.




Small displays.




Large displays.




Hell, I even love sparklers.




Maybe because I remember as a kid a time when my neighborhood would hold a block parties. Kids would run around shooting off fireworks and chowing on hamburgers and watermelon. The colorful bursts in the air seemed all that more magical then. The smell of spent gunpowder wafting through the orange haze.




Maybe because when I was a teen, my friends and I would take the boat out on the lake and watch from there. The colors blasted into the air reflected in the water would make the fish jump as if they were going after pink hued fireflies. The "ooohs" and "Ahs" just like when we were all so much younger.




Maybe because I watched my son look up in wonder. Being scared of the first "Foomp" as the firework was catapulted into the sky and then the first "Kaboom!" as it burst into a flaming flower hovering above our heads - and then seeing the smile. His smile. His excitement.


I get to experience the magic again through his eyes.


How cool is that?