I think the real fireworks started when he walked through the door. Running late as always, he had to make his grand entrance. The get together had been under way for at least an hour, the food delicious, the laughter plenty, and then the doorbell rang. In he struts solo, sunglasses on hiding his sparkling blue eyes, but with a mood so cool you could feel the blue through the shades.
I realized I had been anticipating his arrival and was looking forward to the inside jokes we often shared between the two of us. The friendly banter shared meaninglessly over the years suddenly taking a grab at my heart and sending a jolt through my middle. Removing his shades, he made his way over to sit next to me. How easy we could share our usual quips, wordless glances, and friendly sarcasm. As is habit, we fed off of each other's comments, "my partner in crime" he calls me.
Eventually dusk came and the fireworks were about to start. The crowds were obnoxious, the places were packed, and so we decided to start a new tradition. We took a golf cart ride to the cabin in the woods, started a bonfire, and roasted some marshmallows. The popping and sizzling of the fireworks could be heard through the trees, while the warmth of the fire could be seen on the cheeks, and the smooth creamy sweetness of the marshmallows tasted on the tongue. We created everlasting sparklers by burning the tips of a few thick twigs in the fire; they were much better than the fizzle-out-all-too-soon-cheap store sparklers. Who knew that flour was so flammable. And who knew that a marshmallow thrown at the right speed and with the right force could actually cause pain. All in all, the day's laughter was good, the new tradition was perfect, and the realization of a beautiful friendship, priceless.
***This is a magpie tale. Check out Magpie Tales from "Challenges I Love" to read some great writers!