
Standing at the fence of the cemetery at the top of my childhood street. I can remember the smell of the metal as I leaned against the chain links, stretching my neck to see over the trees.
Sitting on a blanket with family near a popular pool in my small West Virginia town. I don't even remember the biting bugs being an issue.
Positioned among many folding chairs at my town's annual food festival. Pickup trucks and blankets surround the open field.
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Holding hands on the hood of a car with a school sweetheart. Nothing else happened. I swear.
All of those memories are about my town's Fourth of July fireworks. The only time a year I would get to "oooh" and "aah" at the colorful live display in the sky. Each year, once a year. Such a different thing now.
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Now, we see fireworks at the end of almost every baseball game we attend. Some towns don't just save them for the Fourth either. They use them to recognize Memorial Day and the Labor Day weekend. It's the hook of many family festival events — "There will be fireworks!"
It may sound like I think too many lit skies are a bad thing. I really don't. I guess I'm just worried what's happening to my kids' memories of fireworks. I don't want them to lose their spark. I hope they are able to look back on their childhood and remember where they were for the spectacular show. Even if it's holding hands — and nothing else — with their school sweetheart.