“Fireworks are an art form that uses the night sky as the canvas.” -Larry Crump

Mike and I could have stayed home last night when we realized that the fireworks would, in fact, be taking place despite the thunderstorm that passed over Greensboro around 9:00. But that is not how fireworks work in this house, so we headed back out with our umbrellas and our camping chairs and our flashlight to our secret fireworks watching spot in order to get our fix for the year. Sure, there are fireworks every weekend at the baseball games, but it’s not the same as sitting in an undisclosed location and watching a fireworks show.

And, I know I joke about the fireworks being for me, but it is part of the tradition, those fireworks that usher in my birthday. They make me feel like a kid, with the noise and the wonder of it all, bringing back all those memories of sticky, humid nights waiting by the car to see the explosions in the sky. They remind me of my dad, who helped us shoot bottle rockets and bought us sparklers. It’s just not summer without them.

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