We watched the fireworks… for hours they exploded and sailed above our heads all up and down the Milford beach, an annual friendly competition among residents with plenty of money to spend on this sort of thing. Spark lines whistling upwards and then ear-splitting booms, light blooming, spinning, and falling on sand and ocean. We were in the very middle of this celebration, not watching from a distance as I was used to, but underneath it. The final embers could have landed on our shoulders. We walked the crowded beach road, little kids on bikes, older people in chairs, everyone in between having to walk sideways to avoid bumping shoulders. Lots of stop-and-chats along the way: Hey how are you? Great to see you! How’s the boat? Are you ready for the race? Can you believe the World Cup? And these firework displays! John says he didn’t buy new this year, these are just his leftovers but I don’t believe it. Hey, this is my friend Lizzy.
Sitting on two chairs facing the harbor, we passed a metal thermos back and forth, sipping the last of a fruity bubbly tipsy concoction Lou mixed for the night’s travels. Bonfires fading behind us, the beach still busy with people glad to be out late under a deep July sky with the salt water nearby. A group came by collecting chairs and we got ready to give ours up, they laughed and said, No no, stay as long as you want! They wandered away, lugging their empty chairs and we settled back, happy with the ease and beauty of the evening.
