"...they didn't know we were only pretending..."
Jul 5, 18:00
I saw portions of at least eight separate fireworks displays last evening: Three on TV and the rest from the deck behind my grandparent’s house. Each year I try to figure out why it is that such sky-borne visual shows do nothing for me. Last night I sat on the wooden steps leading from the deck, trying to watch the expanding bursts of confetti flame leave smoke trails in the sky. I found myself more interested in the erratic movement and illumination of the few lightning bugs around the yard. The TV was just audible from where I sat, playing the patriotic soundtrack to yet another televised, overly patriotic holiday special. I tried to keep track of the lights flying about the yard and thought.
It could have been past events that obscured my enjoyment of the day. Holidays have the ability to remind me of any and all previous events and the mixture of emotions that are the inseparable companions of those reminders. Why is it that being exactly a year from a moment of importance causes extensive thought of that event? It’s just a day, just a month name and number that I have piled memories onto in order to try to mentally organize this thing known as time.