The screeching projectiles erupted in brilliant color and shape that I never saw.
"Hey, look at that one!" "Ooh, over there!"
Then bursts of laughter.
Unable to crane my neck, I was forced to turn my whole body in vain effort to see the aerial display taking place above and around me on an otherwise still July night. Restricted by the brace I wore, courtesy of shredded muscles and sprained cervical vertebrae, I was always half a beat slow.
Billy Archambault, my borderline sociopathic childhood best friend, and my older sister, Heather, were enjoying my struggles much more than the actual fireworks. I dared not lay down on the threadbare beach towel, knowing the excruciating pain that sitting back up would bring, and I couldn't look up at the cloudless sky. I twisted this way and that, careful not to turn my head, but to no avail. Even when I correctly anticipated the terminal destination of the next salvo, my body would not allow me to contort it in time to witness the payoff. I ended up watching most of the spectacle play out in the reflection of the Hyatt Regency's lake.
Eventually, I had enough. One smirk too many, I pointedly removed the brace. Casting it aside, the bare skin of my neck so tender and vulnerable. The warm breeze somehow feeling cool. I took a deep breath, clenched my jaws tightly, and slowly looked to the heavens. Through audible crunching and waves of fresh pain, I lifted my chin higher and higher. I cried out softly just as my damp eyes settled upon the most majestic grand finale ever seen in their 14 years.
Walking home, half listening to my mother berate me for such recklessness, a sly smile played upon my lips. Reckless? Hardly. Purposeful. I knew exactly what I was doing. I still feel the repercussions today, as my neck is always one mere awkward glance from seizing up, but you know what?
I'm glad I saw those damn fireworks.
Paul- I am glad you saw those fireworks too. It always amazes me how certain sights, sounds, smells will conjure up a past memory.