Picture This: Fireworks, Revisited

Logan, Utah puts on one heck of a fireworks show. Sure, I know there are better, bigger shows in other places (like the one my brother got to go to in the nation's capitol, perhaps?), but the Romney Stadium fireworks show will always be my favorite.

We have history.

I can only remember one year where I missed the fireworks show. I stayed home to go to a friend's birthday party and got in probably the most trouble I've EVER been in with my parents because I wasn't where they expected me to be when they got home. But that is beside the point.

What about those summers you were on a mission, you ask? I have awesome timing. I was never a missionary on Independence Day. I didn't leave until August in 2008, and then the next year I was on my intermission until July 9...which is one of the reasons the fireworks and I have history.

Picture this: July 2009. Hot, but not sweltering. She's wearing a cute pink short-sleeved cardigan. He's wearing a yellow shirt, but not because he knows yellow is her favorite color (he doesn't find that out for another year). Both are wearing unshakable smiles. They are sitting close together, but not quite touching. Both watch the explosions in the sky, but are more concentrated on the person next to them. She scoots a little closer. Their legs touch. Magic. It's what they are feeling.

2009

Fast forward to the next year, same place, same holiday, different outfits. Her family is watching closely--will he propose? They don't know that she told him that if he asked her on the Fourth in front of her family she wouldn't hesitate to say no. This year, they are touching. He puts his arms around her, she settles in and sighs, enjoying the magical feeling of being his and the sky begins to light up again.

2010

 

 

And again, the next year, same place, same time. They are both wearing Aggie blue. They've been married for nine months and have big dreams on their minds. There is still magic, still anticipation, still great things to look forward to.

2011

The next year they are wearing circles under their eyes. The baby, she doesn't sleep much. They just hope she will make it through the next few hours without screaming so they can enjoy their favorite day of the year. She spends the evening wrapped in her Grandpa's arms, happy as can be, freeing up her parents arms for each other. The summer has been hot, both more difficult and more lovely than they had ever expected.

2012

And this year. They show up late, the toddler is already cranky. It was a long drive from Salt Lake back to the place that doesn't quite feel like home anymore. They unload the child on her grandparents, thankful for saved seats and clouds in the sky. Kevin stays entertained for a few minutes, then finds her way back to Mama and Daddy, who have somehow lost that newlywed need to be touching all the time. They snap a quick family picture before the sweat and sun and heat wilt all of their smiles, forgetting to take one of just him and her this year. They take turns wrestling with the toddler as she gets further past her bedtime. They wonder, will the noise and lights scare her? Finally, the sky goes dark as the little girl puts her head on her mother's shoulder. He walks up to come join them and briefly puts his arm around both of his girls until the toddler kicks him away. The fireworks start and she is mesmerized--not scared at all. Her mother spends more time watching her little girl's eyes than the sky, seeing the whole show anew, appreciating just a little bit better what this holiday stands for. The flashes seem to last three times longer than in years past as they pass the toddler back and forth, their arms and legs and backs and eyes getting tired. And yet, something about the little one adds magic to the evening, as if to say, "look what we created. Look what we are now."

They remember to take a picture together later the next day, on the real holiday, as he makes macaroni and cheese in the kitchen for their dinner. They figure it can't get more American than mac n cheese. They put the baby to bed as soon as possible and spend the evening cuddling, alternately watching fireworks out the glass door that leads to the patio and HGTV, dreaming of the day they can pick paint colors and furniture for their own home. They count more than 15 different firework shows going on across the valley, but without the music and the booms right overhead, they are anticlimactic. The shows outside last for over two hours and they get through two episodes of HGTV-Star. She checks on the baby before they go to bed, making sure she is still breathing and safe. He switches on the lamp and turns back the covers. They kneel and pray together, and then he reads a scripture to his wife and they share a good night kiss, remembering the first time they kissed, a snuck-in moment in her parent's driveway on this day four years ago. "I'm glad we've learned to kiss," he says to her, and she laughs before closing her eyes and falling asleep.

Magic.

They feel it.