Crossing a two mile trek through town, there must have been 100 displays of fireworks.  Nearly ever other dwelling had a gathering of 10 or more people out front waving morning glories, shooting off bottle rockets, propelling whirler gigs and fountains.  Colorful sparkles and lots of smoke to a chorus of whistling, cracking and popping.  Before the night was out – or rather – we called it a night to head home, there were THOUSANDS of blasts, booms and oooos and aaahhhhhhs.

I’ve never seen anything like it.

In the distance a professional display of those showy high in the sky, multi-tiered, multi-colored big boyz was visible across the bay.  We had  prepared our little extravaganza at the intersection of a main street and the driveway with a bucket of water and lawn chairs .  The extended family gathered for a singing of The Star Spangled Banner.  Alas, this was no solemn moment.  Meow-meow meow meow meow meoooooooow ? (translated as “O-hhhhh, say can you see?)  Yes, we sang the whole song that way.  From the youngest nephew to the matriarch.  I fear a new tradition was born.


Now it’s Tuesday – which feels like Monday – and a return to the regular pace of things is at hand.  But I can seem to shake the song…


Writing Prompt:  It might be against the rules but…

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