Fireworks were missed this July for the first time since the kids have been born. Even when they were littler and screaming in terror at the loud booms, they were still forced to suffer through in the name of making memories. Those days are gone and they would now be starstruck. This year, however, it’s just another in a line of how things are different.
I hoped that we could at least catch some from far away at our house. Unfortunately, there were too many trees blocking our view. I promised the kids we’d be back on a better track again next year.
Then, as we were getting ready for bed, our neighbor began setting off their own round of explosives. Like bombs literally bursting in air. They were so loud that each time took us by surprise as the rattle shook the house and we all had to settle our hearts back down beating again. Buzz shot up after one such jolt and summed up best what I believe we all were thinking, if maybe not exactly.
“That’s an angry ghost”, he randomly exclaimed.
Because ghosts, they go boo(m)!
It made as much sense as anything else and I’ve since taken the saying as my own. When the kids won’t go to sleep as quick as I’d like, I’m an angry ghost. Barking dogs at midnight are an angry ghost. Missing fireworks makes us all an angry ghost. Life is full of them, spooked by its own shadow. But sometimes, you need the scare to get your heart back down beating again. Boo(m)!