mika
Still Wondering
The clock on the face of my cell phone read 9:56 pm Fri, Jul 4. I was certain that the time listed on the sign as we came into the town stated that the fireworks would start promptly at 9:45.
It had been a fun day but was becoming a long one. It started a bit more than 15 hours before as I tried to make my morning coffee while dispensing a variety of breakfast cereals, juice, milk and more to the youngest members of Team Mika gathered for the weekend. Food remained a theme though out the day.
First it was the collecting of food. Items missing in the family larder resulted in three rides into town to finally have everything needed for the dayÔÇÖs festivities. The first two were cake related. One should have been enough yet a second was required when I failed to read the back side of the shopping list during the first. It was a beautiful morning so I did not regret the opportunities to warm the Roadster up while gathering chocolate chips, butter, pure almond extract and more. The third ride was an unexpected bonus.
My son-in-law, our host for the team gathering, had arrived late the previous night. During a three hour lay over the decision was made to purchase a new grill. Calls were made from MSP International and things were arranged. The decision was revealed to me just before noon as the grill appeared. The evening dinner menu changed from something tragically boring to wonderful slabs of pork ribs. This was the genesis of the third and final ride of the day which ended with a paper courierÔÇÖs bag full ribs and spices draped over my back on the return twelve mile trip.
The house was a beehive of activity all day. Three generations under one roof spanning nine months to fifty-seven years in age. Two daughters that had not seen each other in over a year, with this being the eldestÔÇÖs first trip to her sisterÔÇÖs new home. Breakfasts were made, a cake was made from scratch and baked, secret spice blends for grilling were put together, lunches prepared, games played, a grill put together, a water slide improvised, bruises were had by many, laughs abounded for all, tears of tired children watered several shoulders and finally a wonderful fifth birthday party was had.
9:56 pm, the fire works were eleven minutes late and I was getting tired and testy.
We had arrived at the small town park approximately an hour before. The children had played on the playground toys. I had been taken over as guardian by my petit two year old granddaughter. I stand just shy of six foot five. With her arm fully extended she can reach my down stretched finger as we walked together to the slide. I hovered over her as she played. She was not going to be injured on MikaÔÇÖs watch, and she wasnÔÇÖt.
We returned to sit with the rest of the family as the townÔÇÖs Fourth of July Hostess welcomed us all to the celebration and reminded us of the location of collection boxes so that funds could be replenished so that a celebration could be had again next year. It smacked a bit of a Sunday morning church service and passing the collection plate. The difference between the two is in any church I have been you get to hear the sermon before you make the judgment on the donation. Then a few test shots against a still to light sky.
9:56 pm and still no fireworks. The back light on my cell phone went out. Certainly at 10:00 pm was my though and I slipped the phone into my pocket. I doubt it had slid to the bottom of my pocket when I heard a sound that stopped my heart and cut off my breath. It was that certain scream of terror, different from all other screams a two year old child can make. I had been so careful with her when we were at the playground. We had returned to the safety of a loving family sitting on the lawn of a park in a small Iowa town. For an instant my world went black and I turned falling flat on the ground and fearing the worst.
I lay there looking up at this little elfin princess screaming the most blood curdling scream while dancing for joy and clapping her hands. As life and reality slowly returned to my prostrate body I could hear the sound of fireworks behind me and see all the colors possible in the firework rainbow reflected in her dark brown eyes, in the wonder of her ecstatic smile and in the sound of her piercing scream.
In my fifty-seven years I have been to many firework displays. The first I recall were in my childhood home of Madison Wisconsin. I have seen Bi-Centennial displays, light shows and fireworks for the QueenÔÇÖs Jubilee and Millennium extravaganzas. Tonight they became little more than concert goers holding up a flickering Bic and waving to the beat. You have not seen fireworks until you have seen them in the reflections of the dark brown eyes of a two year old child.
It had been a fun day but was becoming a long one. It started a bit more than 15 hours before as I tried to make my morning coffee while dispensing a variety of breakfast cereals, juice, milk and more to the youngest members of Team Mika gathered for the weekend. Food remained a theme though out the day.
First it was the collecting of food. Items missing in the family larder resulted in three rides into town to finally have everything needed for the dayÔÇÖs festivities. The first two were cake related. One should have been enough yet a second was required when I failed to read the back side of the shopping list during the first. It was a beautiful morning so I did not regret the opportunities to warm the Roadster up while gathering chocolate chips, butter, pure almond extract and more. The third ride was an unexpected bonus.
My son-in-law, our host for the team gathering, had arrived late the previous night. During a three hour lay over the decision was made to purchase a new grill. Calls were made from MSP International and things were arranged. The decision was revealed to me just before noon as the grill appeared. The evening dinner menu changed from something tragically boring to wonderful slabs of pork ribs. This was the genesis of the third and final ride of the day which ended with a paper courierÔÇÖs bag full ribs and spices draped over my back on the return twelve mile trip.
The house was a beehive of activity all day. Three generations under one roof spanning nine months to fifty-seven years in age. Two daughters that had not seen each other in over a year, with this being the eldestÔÇÖs first trip to her sisterÔÇÖs new home. Breakfasts were made, a cake was made from scratch and baked, secret spice blends for grilling were put together, lunches prepared, games played, a grill put together, a water slide improvised, bruises were had by many, laughs abounded for all, tears of tired children watered several shoulders and finally a wonderful fifth birthday party was had.
9:56 pm, the fire works were eleven minutes late and I was getting tired and testy.
We had arrived at the small town park approximately an hour before. The children had played on the playground toys. I had been taken over as guardian by my petit two year old granddaughter. I stand just shy of six foot five. With her arm fully extended she can reach my down stretched finger as we walked together to the slide. I hovered over her as she played. She was not going to be injured on MikaÔÇÖs watch, and she wasnÔÇÖt.
We returned to sit with the rest of the family as the townÔÇÖs Fourth of July Hostess welcomed us all to the celebration and reminded us of the location of collection boxes so that funds could be replenished so that a celebration could be had again next year. It smacked a bit of a Sunday morning church service and passing the collection plate. The difference between the two is in any church I have been you get to hear the sermon before you make the judgment on the donation. Then a few test shots against a still to light sky.
9:56 pm and still no fireworks. The back light on my cell phone went out. Certainly at 10:00 pm was my though and I slipped the phone into my pocket. I doubt it had slid to the bottom of my pocket when I heard a sound that stopped my heart and cut off my breath. It was that certain scream of terror, different from all other screams a two year old child can make. I had been so careful with her when we were at the playground. We had returned to the safety of a loving family sitting on the lawn of a park in a small Iowa town. For an instant my world went black and I turned falling flat on the ground and fearing the worst.
I lay there looking up at this little elfin princess screaming the most blood curdling scream while dancing for joy and clapping her hands. As life and reality slowly returned to my prostrate body I could hear the sound of fireworks behind me and see all the colors possible in the firework rainbow reflected in her dark brown eyes, in the wonder of her ecstatic smile and in the sound of her piercing scream.
In my fifty-seven years I have been to many firework displays. The first I recall were in my childhood home of Madison Wisconsin. I have seen Bi-Centennial displays, light shows and fireworks for the QueenÔÇÖs Jubilee and Millennium extravaganzas. Tonight they became little more than concert goers holding up a flickering Bic and waving to the beat. You have not seen fireworks until you have seen them in the reflections of the dark brown eyes of a two year old child.
