We were lucky to find a single open parking spat at a bank about a quarter mile from the park and, as a quartet of old warplanes circled overhead in various formations, walked to the grassy bank on the near side of the park's little creek. It was already nine o'clock, so we expected the show to start soon. Patriotic music interspersed with garbled announcements accompanied the dance between the fireflies and the children trying to catch them.
"I'm tired. I want to go to bed." My kids started complaining within seconds of spreading our blanket and sitting down. We assured them it would only be a few minutes before the fireworks started. But, although a profusion of fiery blossoms burst from the surrounding residential areas and a mass of grumbling mountainous clouds edged into the dark skies between the park and the stars, the city's ceremony dragged on.
My children's grumbling escalated as the thunder clouds crept into place. By quarter to ten, it appeared mother nature would start her own spectacular light show first. We didn't share the apparent general belief that, in the spirit of Independence Day and its celebration, God would prevent any severe lightning over the crowd. So we took up our blanket and trekked back to the car. Once there, the kids insisted on being buckled in, but still we didn't leave.
At five minutes to ten, just as the storm drew overhead, the fireworks finally started. White flashes of lightning frisked with the red, blue, green and gold bursts, painting the low clouds in a gyrating rainbow of light. We stayed for another ten minutes before succumbing to the demands of our children by climbing into the front seats, putting on our seat-belts, and going on our way. We weren't the only ones leaving early. Ominous sky to ground lightning lit up the skies to the south.
The fourth, a clear and balmy night, we stayed home. The kids went to bed on time and we watched the big city fireworks through our back windows as the bloomed along the horizon.
Posts
