Meridian Days

Leading up to the Fourth of July weekend, Meridian Township here in Michigan just celebrated Meridian Days. To their credit they didn’t call it Founder’s Day or Pioneer Days or Patriot Day—which speaks to a sensibility of the multi-cultural make-up of the community. And, for good grief, the original people’s, even the name Okemos all speak to indigenous people. So an overlay of white supremacy wouldn’t have gone over well either. Simply Meridian Days.

There was a Green Fair of which our bike shop participated, a Farmer’s Market, the obligatory food trucks, and in the evening: FIREWORKS!!!

I love fireworks. Always have. One of my earliest memories (and, remember, this blog is about memories—collecting and archiving them as writers for future work or distilled into smaller flash pieces) is watching a fireworks show from a rooftop. Now I’m not sure where this was as even as a baby we lived on Hadley Ave. in Kettering, but nevertheless I remember Mom handing me over and all of us getting out onto a roof. As a little one I recall thinking: Is this safe—and if yes—then why don’t we do this more often? Then the burst of color and the loud percussion of booms. I wasn’t afraid, but entranced—perhaps that is why the vague memory has persisted over all these years. Plus, the delight of being on a rooftop.

Last night, because it started at 10:20 I wasn’t really out and about. I’d gone to the store to pick up a few items and then ridden home. To tell the truth I was on my computer when the fireworks started. At first I’d forgotten and thought—is it thundering? Because, indeed, just a minute before I caught the pitter-patter of rain outside my window. But, then, I realized it was the fireworks and got up and went outside. A tree blocked my view so I continued down the drive in my complex until I was higher up, but still under a tree because of the rain.  So I watched the show in the rain.

The shower of colors, thunderclap of M80s, the sprinkle of twinkles falling from the sky.

Everything about watching fireworks in the rain was enhanced—especially my commitment to being there despite getting a bit wet. I returned home 20 minutes later with soggy shoes and my hair stringy around my face, but still in love with fireworks.