So, yesterday was Canada Day, and I went to watch the fireworks with the wife on the hill.
Fireworks are funny, aren’t they? An explosive pyrotechnic device used in religious and cultural ceremonies since forever.
It was lovely.
And what was even lovelier, was watching the crowds.
What was lovely about the crowd was the fact that everyone was just willing to stand around and watch something beautiful. It makes sense, though, the appeal. Everyone likes to watch the stars, the sky, falling stars, lunar eclipses.
Nice is such a small word to describe how it felt to stand amongst a crowd of people and still feel welcome, and relatively at home. Despite the mosquitos and the long grass and the ever-encroaching dark.
We’re probably a really uncomplicated race compared with others in the galaxy and the milky way and the ever-reaching mystery that is out there. But it was heart-warming, that we could all be humbled by something as simple as things lighting up in the sky.
(Not to say that there isn’t a huge amount of choreography or care or training that goes into the brilliance that is pyrotechnics, especially on a national holiday like Canada Day…)
… but the act of standing and watching is fairly self-explanatory.
We were all just like little kids, really. Looking up in wonder. Making appreciative noises comprised mostly of vowels and half-finished exclamations.
And we were all there jumbled together, and it didn’t really matter who we were or what we did for a living.
Just watching a series of carefully-timed explosions with smoke and lights and colours, and loving every minute of it.
It was good to be there with my wife, too, because it was a moment in our lives that was lit up, for the lack of a better term.
It was only a little moment in what (I hope) will be a veritable ocean of proverbial time. One to match the literal (Pacific) ocean that separates our homes. (If you take a globe or a map, and flatten it out, we’re on opposite sides of the page, and that hurts more than it should. More than it has a right to.)
All that aside, though, this was an important moment for me, because it was so simple and beautiful and human and humble.
And I think it’s important to do that, every once and a while, to stand back and enjoy a moment without thinking about it, or analysing it, and sharing it effortlessly with others.
(… but probably don’t try any fireworks shenanigans at home, okay? Okay.)