Creative Writing "Sparkler"

There is a feeling, an atmosphere that exists on the kind of night when the air is full of celebration. I look around and I know that there are dozens, possibly over a hundred other people waiting with the same expectations as me, yet I can't help but remain absorbed in my own bubble. The fireworks are coming, and although this is not the first time I have been to one of these evening shows, there is something intoxicating about not being entirely sure what colors will dazzle me this time, what forms in the sky will cause my eyes to sparkle as no other brilliant series of exploding lights has before.  But for now all is more muted, and the buzz of anticipation is humming over everything. People smile and laugh together, laying out on blankets, holding hands, enjoying each other's company.

At the beginning of everything, I have a match and you offer me a sparkler.  That's the start of it all.  A precursor of what is to come - the wild yet contained bits of gleaming fire of the sparkler shoot off in random directions, yet prove to be absolutely harmless.  The sparks and glints of electric energy are the single flakes of snow that lead into an avalanche of exhilarating spectacle, sight and sound that captivates you into stunned silence.  I cannot help but smile, because I know the sparkler is the beginning of everything.  I may have been worried to accept it, some fear of being burned that stuck in the back of my mind.  But you smile, and I'll trust you.

Fireworks shows, although each one unique and beautiful, have a somewhat predictable structure: a constant buildup into one grand finale.  This is not your first Fourth of July either, I know that.  Blues and reds will streak up towards the heavens, giving way to tantalizing bursts that grow louder and more radiant exponentially.  We will stare in wonder and awe and question how something made by humans, as imperfect as any creature could be, could be so absolutely flawless.  Captivated, entranced, we will forget other people even exist while we imagine that the spectacle was designed for us alone.  The rhythmic explosions will sync with our drumming heartbeats, our eyes will reflect the spectrum of colors that compose the sky.  The only thing that will keep me grounded is the feeling of you next to me, tethering me to your side, and keeping me from floating upwards into the heavens to join the fireworks themselves, and for that and your company I will be grateful.

In the final stage of the evening, every imaginable form and shade of artistic pyrotechnics will grace the sky in immediate succession.  It will take everything we have to remember to breathe while we are hypnotized by the seemingly infinite blossoms of color above us. Unconsciously, we are both smiling as bright as the night sky in front of us, as the artistry of the show could never leave anyone in any other state. It becomes truly impossible to fathom unhappiness in those moments.

The final few streaks of gleam and glitter fade from view, and we become aware that the rest of the audience is leaving the space, our space.

But we are not made to burn out in a singular fantastic fashion, only to be forgotten and left behind immediately following.  We remain, comfortable on the picnic blanket, hands intertwined, as our eyes adjust to the night sky.  I look at you and I know then that while the fireworks are brilliant and dazzling, their lights come to an end.  Instead now, the glow that keeps me smiling is your company alone, under the fixed moon and the stars which I deem infinitely more beautiful that the flowers of color and light and fire that will always prove temporary.

The others have all now abandoned the area, thinking they have witnessed the great event, celebrated, and are on their ways home.  We know better, don't we?  We came for the fireworks, but we are staying for the night sky which is the truly infinite wonder beyond our explanation.  We find our own contentment here, relishing the peace and knowledge that the stars will continue burning for us.

But just as fireworks, stars also are born with the flicker and spark of a flame, not unlike the sparkler that you have given me.