As a child, I loved fireworks.
I loved walking to the big field behind my grandma’s vacation home and watching the bright flashes light up the summer sky. I loved catching fireflies that strived to compete with the show overhead. I loved the excitement, the noise, and the anticipation. I even loved the way my heart raced with adrenaline, long after the finale ended, making it nearly impossible to fall asleep in my bunkbed.
But somewhere on my life journey, that changed.
For the past twenty years, I’ve had very little interest in staying up late to watch fireworks and found myself increasingly uninterested in this beloved American tradition.
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