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a passionate repentance

Fourthiness

Fourthiness

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may God stand
We didn't go to Eola to watch the fireworks. In part because when ever I go to the park to watch fireworks everyone stands up and I spend the rest of the evening glaring fixedly at someone else's arse end. And not even a particularly pretty arse end.

Yesterday was also..raining. Which meant that I couldn't go on for the majority of the day..no great crime there, but it was annoying to realize that I couldn't go *see* fireworks and I couldn't look *up* fireworks. In fact I resigned myself to being entirely firework free.

Until around ten o'clock. It was still thundering and lightning, but it was moving off in a grumpy "I'm not finished yet and I'll go on as long as I like" way. The air was hot and humid and very still, and I went to the loo, to wash my hands. Lo and behold there was a sudden crackle and a burst of color outside the bathroom window's frosted glass. I opened the window and sat down to watch.

The rain was still coming down quietly in a sort of tired way, but here and there through the live oaks that screen our backyard and the neighbor's back yards, there were fireworks. The sky was overcast enough that the street lights bounced off the clouds, and what you got wasn't true dark but a sort of saddened twilight. You could see the streetlights through the trees if you tilted your head.

And then there was a spitting, hissing whine. I looked straight out across the garden and across the storm drain and saw what looked like a fountain of red and gold sparks rising up from the ground. It got higher and higher and then it stopped, leaving a fade out of golden sparks and a ragged cloud of smoke. The smoke didn't move anywhere because the wind was so still. Moments later the neighbor to the right set off a perfectly beautiful green flowery firework that then exploded into red. There was a another lovely fall of deep gold sparks, and the cloud of smoke smelling of punk.

I could hear laughter and cheers now and then when some particularly nice one went up. Purple and green sparks seen through the branches of the trees. Bangs and whistles and pops, like mortar shells. I wondered then why we set off firecrackers to celebrate and then I realized..we didn't always have it so *light* at night. And the lights and the colors blooming against the pure black must have seemed like dreams unfolding behind closed eyes, so sharp and so real that you knew it couldn't possibly be genuine any of it. Now and then the thunder rumbled and boomed, adding it's commentary to the manmade uproar.

The bird was scared and wanted to come out of his cage only to be even more scared and want to go flying around once he'd gotten out. I put him back in and he didn't fuss for once. The cats were scarce for a while and I suppose they were waiting out the noise somewhere.

It was nice, all the nicer because I was home, and I was comfortable and I didn't *have* to wait. I didn't have to do anything or go anywhere. I just was there. Listening to the fireworks and then listening to the quiet, and the soft, tenative songs of the frogs, down in the storm drains.
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