Remember how I said we were skipping fireworks this year?
Turns out, we didn't have to. The homeowners' association sent out a sternly-worded email, reminding everyone that it's illegal to set off fireworks in this county, etc. etc. And in true Independence Day fashion, at least half our neighbors ignored the suggestion. As the sun went down, the fireworks started going up. And up and up and up.
We were putting William to bed, deflecting his eager questions about when he'd get to see fireworks with a "maybe next year." And that's when we started to hear the popping and the crackling and the booming. David yanked open the blinds in our bedroom, I grabbed William from his crib where I had just deposited him, and we watched one of the best fireworks displays I've ever seen in the comfort of our own air-conditioning. There were explosions of color in about five different directions that we could see---and in several directions that we couldn't. Roman candles and the sizzlers (my favorite) and the weeping willows and reds and greens and purplea: they were all represented. Many, many times.
Dressed in his monkey jammies and with wet hair, William was beside himself with joy that he was getting to see fireworks after all. And Diane, Aaron, David and I were thoroughly amused with his experience. Blissfully, he shouted, "More! More fireworks!" and "Fireworks go boom!" and "Oh wow! Big firework dere!" and "Happy Fourth July!" as he spun back and forth between the two windows, trying to follow the show. It was the most fun I've had watching fireworks in a long time.
And it was free. And did I mention we were inside our own air-conditioned house? And that we didn't have to fight traffic anywhere?
Eventually, even William seemed to have had his fill of fireworks-watching, and so David capitalized on that by putting him back to bed and instructing him to listen to hear the last fireworks. But the fireworks went on for at least another 45 minutes, as more and more neighbors joined in the fun. Eventually, they petered out, and then, silence.
And THEN the best sound of all: rain. Rain! Rain for my parched yard and my poor thirsty tomatoes. I can't think of a better ending to a glorious evening.