Saturday, July 16, 2011

Day 285: short lived fire and the long way home


Montreal.
City of festivals.
One of which is the “International Fireworks Festival”.
It runs from June to the end of July.
And every Saturday they shut down one of the main bridges so that people can walk on it and get an amazing view of the fireworks over the water.
Doesn’t that sound nice?
Sure.
Until you need to use that exact bridge to get back home before midnight to write a blog you should have written in the morning.
(Because you were too hungover this morning.  But I digress).
As I made the major detour required to get back onto the island through another bridge, I began to curse the fireworks.
The traffic was ridiculous.
Everyone, it seemed, was taking this bridge tonight as Plan B.
An hour passed.
I started to mutter under my breath.
What’s the big deal about fireworks, anyway?
I can’t believe people still go to this thing!
So what? I’m over it.
It’s just a bunch of lights and lots of noise.

And then it happened.
There, in traffic, I accidentally happened to be in a prime location to catch the finale.
Sweeps of what looked like red and gold weeping willows drenched the night sky.
It was magnificent, dammit.
And then it was over.
Gone.
Leaving only smoke to drift after what was a beautifully colorful fire.
I shook my head.
Because for all the confusion and traffic these fireworks brought to my path they still 
got to me.
They still made my eyes widen, my stomach flutter, and my lips smile.
It's just something about it burning there so brightly before you that grabs hold of a feeling you thought was behind you.
I mean sure, in the end, you realize that it’s just a fleeting light show in the dark.
And when it's all done, it can be rather forgettable.
But when you’re in it again.
It’s magic.




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