Childhood Summer Memories, Part IV

All of the neighbors on Mimosa Drive had a huge block party every year on the Fourth of July.  As a young child, I looked forward to these outdoor social events. A smorgasbord of food could be found on red and white checkered card tables joined perfunctorily in the middle of the street; barbecued links, brisket, hamburgers, chips, cole slaw, potato salad, raw vegetables and fresh fruit. The dessert table was a sinful temptation for all of the women, but it was always where I stopped to fill my plate. The appetizing smells drifting through the thick, humid air always made my mouth water. 

My mom rolled our upright piano out into the street and provided music for everyone.  As the night wore on, people gathered around and sang along. Some danced cheek-to-cheek and moved around like stiff grasshoppers. I never quite understood why the adults grew friendlier and louder, but I did know that those adult beverages I was banned from had something to do with it.

The neighborhood kids and I played hopscotch, roller-skated and jumped rope while we waited for the main event. The summer heat and nagging mosquitoes never stopped us from having a good time, even though I was always the main target.

*

Sweaty supple skin

A mosquito’s sweet dessert

Temptation buzzing

*

We spent days practicing for the talent show to be performed for the grown-ups.  One neighbor’s mom was a seamstress, and she loved making elaborate costumes (with our help, of course).  We had so much fun prancing around the animated parents and making them laugh. Their lawn chairs lined the curbs, and we would parade up and down the street like kids on Halloween.

We always stayed up way too late so we could set off fireworks. Boom, boom, boom, even brighter than the moon, moon, moon.* I was lying in the grass with my friends watching the colorful explosion in the sky when all of the sudden I heard screaming.  In the blink of an eye, all became still and silent.

I looked up to find people hovered around an older boy I did not know.  I ran over to see what all the commotion was about, but my mom stopped me before I could make it through the crowd.

“Don’t come any closer, honey,” she said.

“Why not?  What happened?” I asked.

“A teenager had fireworks explode in his hand and face. He’s badly hurt.  We’re going in now.”

I reluctantly followed my family inside, turning around several times to sneak a peek.  I never got a close look, and I never saw that boy again. I stayed away from firecrackers for many years.

*

The Fourth of July

fireworks exploding

in his face

*

@laurie kolp

Prompt inspiration: Poetry Jam- Use lyrics from a song

*Katy Perry, "Firework"