Loud Stars

Three years. Three years of Fourth of July fireworks ending with Sophie in hysterics, me carrying a screaming toddler back to the car while Marcus gathered our chairs and muttered about next year being different. Tonight was supposed to be different, but I wasn’t holding my breath.

Loud Stars

But look at that face. That’s the face of a kid who sat through an entire fireworks show without losing it. She wasn’t thrilled — kept calling them “loud stars” and asking when they’d be done — but she didn’t scream. She didn’t cry. She didn’t try to climb into my shirt and disappear forever. Progress, people. Sweet, blessed progress.

I’m not saying she loved it. She spent most of the show with her hands over her ears, looking deeply suspicious of the whole enterprise. But when the finale started and everyone around us was cheering, she actually looked up at the sky instead of at my collarbone. Baby steps. Literally.