They sting my wrists, but they're still beautiful.

          I bought sparklers today. I love sparklers. When I was younger, I was a little afraid of them, didn't like the snap of them on the skin of my arms where the sparks struck. But I was always fascinated by them. Now, I don't mind the small discomfort.
          As soon as it turns summery, I get excited for the Fourth of July. It doesn't stem from a sense of patriotism, really. To be honest, I think it's mostly for the fireworks.
          It's that bright pop of lights, green and purple and red and blue and gold and white, entirely out of synch with the sound of the shells bursting. The slow willowy ones that drip soft white embers, trailing smoke and fading sparks in the air. The blazing chrysanthemums of color, bright and loud. Even the duds that sing up high and burst with a supernova flash that rings in the hollow spaces under my ribs.
          It always makes me ... I don't know. All dreamy and quiet and alive. Lying out on a blanket in the cool, drowsy darkness, our eyes cast to the sky, the comfort found in the warmth of another breathing body nearby.
          I guess I get the same feeling watching fireworks as I do during thunderstorms, or while lying in the grass looking at stars, or seeing a field full of fireflies. Things best spent shared, and slow. There's a softness, and this strange, quiet sort of thrill. It's close to the feeling of coming inside after running around in the snow. There's an overwhelming sense of closeness, and warmth. Intimacy.
          I'm told that there's a two-week celebration here called the Freedom Festival, or something similar, leading up to the Fourth of July, and that there are firework displays every night.
          I'm really glad I'll be here all summer.


          I shouldn't be blogging right now. I should be sorting and packing my things in preparation for my move to a building across campus - home for the next three months, and then it's back across the street for the year. I have too much stuff. I make a terrible nomad.
          I gotta start living more minimally. Materialistically speaking, that is. The other excesses of life can stay. There will always be time for sparklers and snowball fights.