Fireworks is quite the elicitor of polarized feelings.
On one hand, bright explosions against the night sky is super fun to watch. On the other, I’m easily spooked, and am deeply unsettled by loud noises.
My 4th of July evening was spent grappling with these feelings.
I call it “small animal instinct,” the urge to jump at every BOOM!
It’s not the loudness, but the suddenness that is startling. A well-timed holler would send me flying out of my seat.
My devious friends always played with my jumpy nature.
On night, in my sleepy haze, I stumbled to the bathroom and left the door to my room open.
Upon my return, I sensed something was amiss.
I glanced around. All was dark. All was quiet.
Not certain of the nature of the foul play, I trendily tiptoed to my bed.
Moments before I climbed under the covers, a hand reached out and grabbed my ankle!
I screamed and bolted into the hallway, arms flailing and heart racing, while laughter emanated from under my bed.
I sometimes wish I wasn’t quite so jumpy. It would definitely make fireworks more enjoyable. However, I would miss out on all those funny life stories and experiences. While terrifying in the moment, they provide many chuckles when reminiscing, and I do love the funnies.