Adulthood, unlike childhood, holds little magic. Life becomes a steady routine of rules and responsibilities that you rinse and repeat day in and day out. It’s hard to find excitement in the simplicities of the every day the way five year olds can. When the wind blows away the seeds of a dandelion puff, it seems much less mesmerizing.
Fireworks, though, are one of those things that never cease to amaze me. They are spectacular forms of pyrotechnic genius whose fleeting nature forces you to sit up and pay attention, eyes widening millimeter by millimeter so that you can take in every last ephemeral skyward burst.