July 6th, 2012
I stand Among the crowds to try to get a glimpse of the fireworks. I do not understand why everyone is on top of me. The fireworks go up, so you only have to lift your head. But then I understand, as I stand among the hoards of people, just like me, they're just trying to see the lights that will brighten the sky, our moment to be a kid again.
I stand elbow to elbow with these folks, listening to their conversations and antidotes. In a time of great despair, people are optimistic. Just like me, they are just trying to find their place in a time that seems harder than years ago. I hear their fears of hardships and talk of plenty of good times, vacations, and dreams. Their voices get caught up in what little air stream gives us relief from the body heat we are producing in our closeness.
Their voices are carried off as their thoughts fade away, absorbed by nearby trees. It's nice to know there are people out there just trying to find their way in a world that doesn't like to share her secrets. My boys are in their stroller, mesmerized by the sparklers before us. They are oblivious to the things being said by the people around them, just as the people around my boys are oblivious to the people listening to them.
The heat begins to weigh on me, and it's getting harder to breathe. The sweat starts to seep from my pores. I can feel it glide down my neck, joining my spine and sliding down to an area just below the waist where it looks to escape.
I can not move. We are locked in, trying to get a good spot. I sealed our fate, and there is nothing I can do; there's no escape. I'll have to wait and continue to listen to the voices around me until the first firework goes off. Captain Imperfecto did it again. In trying to get my boys a good look at the fireworks, we got jammed in.
The sweat gets heavier and spreads from my neck over the shoulder and down my arm, until the salty water reaches my elbows, which drips into the street below. I just want to go, but we can't go anywhere. The frustration kicks in as the crowd inches closer like a trash compactor squeezing the trash. The voices around me are getting louder. I can't make anything out. It's just loud screams and shouts; there is no way out. The tension builds as my kids get restless and rock back and forth in the stroller, trying to leave their carriage. Their cries join the other voices that have no identity. The voices are like horns that get louder and louder, pushing back harder against the breeze. The trees are overdosed with the sound of the chatter, overrun by the sheer number of decibels the lingering air brings; they stop absorbing them, forcing the sound back where it bounces around us. I feel trapped and under attack.
I close my eyes and remove my hat. I use my sleeve to wipe away the sweat that beads on my crown before it drips onto my face. My shirt is drenched with sweat. The noises are louder, the people are closer, and the mood feels distressing.
My heart pounds. I look around for another route, an alternate direction to make my escape, but there is no way I'm getting out; I am here and going nowhere. I look at my watch, anticipating the first launch of a rocket with the eagerness of a New Year's Eve ball drop. The time is getting close, and I just want to go.
"I pledge allegiance to the flag…" goes on my head. Like a prayer, I said it was patriotic. I did my part, and now let me out. I'll see the fireworks next year.
It was past nine o'clock, and not one fired a shot. I am ready to shout, "Let's go, so I can go and get the hell out."
And then, with a "bang," a shooting star rises into the air, exploding into a glorious sight. My adrenaline subsides as my kids, and I love the glowing light. I revert my thoughts and think about how thankful I am to stand here as an American. I thank God I stayed and joined in with the crowd as we all shouted:
"Ow wee aww!" as the fireworks red glare, giving color to the air, and we cheer for the red, white, and blue.
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