Ten years ago during our first Independence Day after moving here, our dear friend Alicia told us about the free festivities at the Fort. So Aaron and I traversed there and enjoyed, amidst a sea of fellow viewers, the magnificent fireworks show over the Columbia River. But for the past seven years, we've shared the holiday with our dear friends, two other families, and our babies grew into children that played together in the kiddie pools while we sipped mojitos and the dads let off fireworks
(carefully following all safety regulations pertaining to children and fire, with exception of that one time that Aaron looked into a Roman Candle to see why it didn't go off, but I digress) after a BBQ in the yard. But this year the July 4 fell on Wednesday, and it made it awkward for such an event to take place. So Aaron decided to revisit the Fort with the boys, and although surprised that we needed to buy tickets to the show this year, acquiesced and got them anyway. After dinner we got the boys in the bath and their pjs, then with blankets and lawn chairs trekked to the fireworks show. We got there early for better parking and claimed our little spot in the grass just as the sun was setting, pulling long thin shadows over the ground, and the bats descended from their perches in the trees over us, chasing their breakfast of mosquitos and gnats. The boys ran like feral children across the vast lawn of the park, the sunset painting them glowing colors of gold and copper.
But as the stars popped through the darkening heavens, a thrill of energy resonated in the air as we and our fellows in the grass settled in for the show. Finally a whistling missile shot up into the nighttime sky and exploded with a ground-rattling boom, spraying an orb of shimmering magenta bits of fire over us. The boys were hushed, mouths agape, faces that just moments before were reflecting the sunset, were now illuminated by the miriade of colors from the fireworks. Raph sat on my lap in reverent silence while Andres snuggled between Aaron and I shivering at the loudness. We explained to them earlier as we waited for the show to start that this is the day we celebrate our freedom. The loud noises reminded me that as I snuggled with my little ones in the grass for a show, there are countless of mothers in other, far away places where there's war or violent unrest, hearing the same explosive sounds around them for very different reasons. It's hard to grasp when you're almost-6 and 2, or an American all cozy on a lawn on a balmy summer's evening, but the thought jarred me. I shivered at the screaming missiles and thunderous booms, praying for them, those frightened mothers and children in distant lands. And I felt a heavy gratefulness for my life. And some kind of agressive, protective love for the fragile four of us, imperfect and broken, yet so very blessed and rich with love and peace, swept over me as our faces radiated with the passing colors of the glittering heavens above.
But as the stars popped through the darkening heavens, a thrill of energy resonated in the air as we and our fellows in the grass settled in for the show. Finally a whistling missile shot up into the nighttime sky and exploded with a ground-rattling boom, spraying an orb of shimmering magenta bits of fire over us. The boys were hushed, mouths agape, faces that just moments before were reflecting the sunset, were now illuminated by the miriade of colors from the fireworks. Raph sat on my lap in reverent silence while Andres snuggled between Aaron and I shivering at the loudness. We explained to them earlier as we waited for the show to start that this is the day we celebrate our freedom. The loud noises reminded me that as I snuggled with my little ones in the grass for a show, there are countless of mothers in other, far away places where there's war or violent unrest, hearing the same explosive sounds around them for very different reasons. It's hard to grasp when you're almost-6 and 2, or an American all cozy on a lawn on a balmy summer's evening, but the thought jarred me. I shivered at the screaming missiles and thunderous booms, praying for them, those frightened mothers and children in distant lands. And I felt a heavy gratefulness for my life. And some kind of agressive, protective love for the fragile four of us, imperfect and broken, yet so very blessed and rich with love and peace, swept over me as our faces radiated with the passing colors of the glittering heavens above.
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