SOMEWHERE IN NEVERLAND
This week, I took to Google to find some false sense of inspiration for my column under the search “writing topics.” One of the topics I found was “Fireworks;” the purpose of it was just to describe the cacophony of sounds that comes from these miniscule explosions and whether or not we enjoy it, but it, like many things in my life lately, reminds me of small memories from home.
In my hometown, the Fourth of July gets nutty. Our small town of 7,000 people increases in size to about 40,000 people over the course of the holiday. Fireworks and open containers are made legal to the public and our small main street through the center of town becomes packed with people the morning of the 4th for a parade riddled with “town royalty.” My family always skips this, we’ve grown to develop our own traditions on the holiday.
My traditions on this day have mostly formed with my dad. It was always a time for us to bond over a common interest when I was younger, and while it still is that, as both of us get older it’s almost become a time to reminisce.
My family has had some struggles in the past and it’s affected my relationship with my dad to some extent, but the Fourth of July has become a way for me to flashback to the way things were before all of those hardships. I, in a sense, get to be a five year old without a care in the world again and forget about anything that’s happened. I get to strengthen the weakened bonds of my family. And I guess if my family has to turn into a bunch of pyromaniacs to do so, then I’ll take it.
So while the squealing and explosions of fireworks may petrify some, and may just be something pretty to others, fireworks have given me tenacious bonds with my family and that’s something I’ll always make a point to return home to that time of year, no matter where I end up.
Editor’s Pick: “Fourth of July” by Fall Out Boy