As the weekend festivities begin to sizzle away, I paused this morning to think a very profound thought... "I should post pictures of my favorite fireworks displays on my blog!" (Give me a break, it was early, that is as profound as I get pre-coffee.) But as it would be, I don't have a single picture of a firework that I have seen. I know that Lea is screaming blasphemy! But it is very much the truth.
For a gal who absolutely LOVES the way a little pyrotechnic explosion lights up the night and ooohhs and aahhhs with the best of them, I can't believe that I don't have a single snapshot. The only possible reason for this.... I am way too mesmerized with the moment to bother with a camera.
I don't have pictures from the years of laying on the golf course behind my parent's house to watch the City of Temple Terrace's rockin Independence Day display, none from Turner Field's post Braves game display, none from the hour long shake your world display from the summer in Nagoya, Japan, none from Tom Brown park, Epcot, Uptown Charlotte, or the frillons of other random displays of sparkly bliss that I have seen in my life. None. Not one.
But, they are all saved in the scrapbook that is my memory. And when I hear/see that glittery boom, the moments that I have shared with so many people over the years come flooding through. And that is why fireworks are so very good to me. I have never ever watched them alone.
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