The Fourth

The Fourth

“Is it over yet?” came a small voice.

“No, Honey,” Mom said, “about ten more minutes, I think. Why don’t you come out and look, it’s very pretty.”

There was no sound from the closet.

“They’re very far away, they can’t hurt you and they’re so pretty. Come on, it’s just a few more.”

There was a tiny rustle. Mom kept quiet, and soon a head peeked out the doorway of the closet.

“Will they make the noise?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t wanna…” the voice trailed off.

“Do you know what the noise is?” Mom asked.

“They’re crying?”

“No! Honey, no! They don’t cry, they’re happy!”

“Happy?”

“Yes!”

“But the light, the big noise…”

“The light, and the big noise, is from the explosion in the sky.”

“Does it hurt?”

“No! It would hurt us to do that, but it doesn’t hurt them, they love it. It’s just like how we can’t fly, but birds do it all the time. They love it and they are made so that they can fly.

“So, those ones are made to make noise and light?” she said, reaching out far enough to point at the window.

“Yes, they love it. It makes them very happy!”

“Happy?” she said, actually stepping out of the closet. “They’re really happy?”

“Yes, Honey. They are really happy because they get to make all those beautiful colors. Want to see them? It will still be loud, but you can put your hands over your ears… It’s just the sound they make when they’re happy. Like we smile and laugh when we’re happy, they make a loud noise and beautiful colors.”

“OK… I’ll come out,” and she did.

And she never missed the fireworks again, and she lived to be a hundred and six.