Independence Day

Scott stood up and walked over to the fire. He picked up a stick and started poking at the coals that lay under the lazy flames. Sparks flew from the ashes and rose a few feet into the twilight air before disappearing into the darkness. Fireflies flickered in the waning light almost as if they were a pre-show warm-up. 

The children were hanging out at the fire pit below the house. They had cooked hot dogs and s'mores over the fire. Their parents had long returned to the house to do whatever it is that parents do. They were probably reading or something. The children lingered fireside in hopes that the neighbors across the street would maintain their yearly tradition of shooting off fireworks. They weren't like the fireworks that could be viewed at Silver Park in town or any one of the other professional fireworks shows that were available for public viewing around the holiday, but they were still pretty cool. It was basically a private show that could be enjoyed without the hassle of large groups of picnic basket carrying, sparkler wielding, glow stick wearing observers that flocked to the public venues. 

“It's almost nine o'clock,” Caleb declared as he checked his Timex wrist-watch. “They should start any minute now.”

“Well, I'm not sure what they're waiting for,” Kelsey replied. “It's dark enough right now.”

“I don't know,” Scott muttered as he kicked at the dirt with the toe of his boot. “Maybe they're not doing fireworks this year.”

Caleb nodded his head from side to side as he considered the validity of his brothers statement. The younger three gasped in genuine concern at the suggestion that the show might never start. 

“Don't even joke about that!” Kelsey chided. “Of course they're gonna do fireworks. They do them every year. It's a tradition!”

(Kelsey always had a strong appreciation for tradition but sometimes seemed unaware that her family's traditions weren't necessarily someone else's traditions.)

The discussion was cut short by a clear crisp two-tone whistle that sounded clearly from the house's wrap-around porch. Five heads jerked to attention as the children ran towards the house through the opening in the chain link fence. Muted exclamations of protest punctuated each step as they grudgingly, but quickly, made their way up the hill and onto the porch. Dale stood there waiting patiently for his brood to appear. 

“Um,” Caleb began on behalf of his younger siblings. “Is it time to come in already? The fireworks haven't even started yet.”

“I know that,” Dale responded curtly. “Everybody get in the van.”

The children didn't argue because it was not a great idea to argue with their father. As they grew older, they could assume that they would begin to argue with their father from time to time, but they weren't old enough for that just yet. Instead, they walked down the old sidewalk to the gravel parking area where the family's Astro was parked. They climbed into the passenger compartment of the vehicle as their parents got into the bucket seats in the front. 

Without offering any explanation, Dale put the vehicle in reverse and backed it out of the parking spot. The children expected him to turn down the driveway towards the road, but instead, he turned in the opposite direction and began a quick ascent up the barn hill. He turned left onto the top drive and guided the van past the house and in between the Long Barn and the Yankee Barn and past the Honda Hutch. Much to the surprise of his passengers, Dale continued to drive the vehicle right into the hay field at the end of the driveway.

“Where are we going?” Luke whispered to his older brothers.

Caleb and Scott just shrugged in response. While it may have been completely normal to go off-roading in some family's, it was not normal for this family. The only off-roading they did was on tractors and that one time in the blue suburban on the way to school. (The latter was not intentional and is another story for another time.) The van crested the hill and was turned so that the sliding side door faced south towards State Route 172. Dale brought the vehicle to a stop and put it in park.

“You kids might want to open your door and make yourselves comfortable,” he directed as he put the vehicle in park. “Those fireworks are bout to start any minute and I though you might appreciate a better viewpoint this time around.”

That's awesome, alright, and thanks Dad! Sounded out from the back of the van as one of the kids opened the sliding door. The kids got settled into their individual viewing spots just as the telltale screech of the first firework sounded across the valley. The children watched on bated breath as a golden streak curved into the air and exploded with a pop in a shower of read sparks. 

Their father was right. They did appreciate this vantage point. At their traditional viewing point, they were only able to see the upper half of the shimmering sphere of most fireworks and some of them were missed entirely. From the top of this hill, which was almost the highest point of the farm on the west side of the valley, the family could see the whole show. Christa looked across the center console at her husband and opened her mouth to say something. Her thought was interrupted by her youngest daughter who apparently made Christa's comment unnecessary with the utterance of her own.

“Best fourth of July ever!”