Silence Bookended

This was my favorite photo that I captured of our two youngest sons relaxing on a blanket while watching the city fireworks last weekend. They sat in awe, taking everything in, from the little girl sitting behind us with her family who offered them glowsticks before the display began to the boaters who had pulled into the bay to watch the show overhead.

On our way to the park, I’d realized that we’d missed the last few years of 4th of July fireworks between traveling to visit friends and family over the holiday and having little people who hated the explosions. One of my sisters messaged the rest of us about how neighbors in their small town have been setting off fireworks for days– much to the dismay of her sleepy toddler.

When I read her message, I was instantly drawn back to the early days of life with our firstborn, when I still assumed I could simply tag along to the usual fun gatherings with friends. At his first 4th of July, I remember trying to cover up his ears as he squirmed around and then cried and then fell asleep. I felt oddly guilty from having him there, yet a strong sense of FOMO kept us from leaving early. Sometimes, as my kids grow older, I feel that I paint a lot of memories of them with a nostalgic glow, and maybe that’s what we’re supposed to do as parents; if I’m honest with myself, I see the difficulties at every stage as well, working together with the joys to paint a realistic portrait of life.

This weekend, it wasn’t any problem to keep the three boys awake and unbothered during the 15-minute fireworks display at 10pm. As we set up our spot two hours early (of course, the park was already busy even at that time), we played catch and told stories. It felt both similar and different from the first 4th of July with a small person 9 years ago. I’m grateful to witness the new joys, challenges, and excitement of every step of the journey.