Rockets' red glare

And white. And blue. Also green, gold, orange, and even sometimes purple.

Just got back from a Meetup BBQ up in the Foothills, right up on almost the last block before the National Forest begins and houses stop. Thanks to our lovely and excellent hostess Lindsay we had the perfect vantage point to watch the show: a south-facing second-floor townhome balcony.

Didn’t see any professional displays – if the Isotopes played at home tonight, the game hadn’t ended when the party broke up around 9:30. But there were plenty of volunteer fireworks to see. Mortars, rockets, the odd flare – a whole glorious, flickering, colorful panorama.

While it’s always cool to see (though not always cool to hear) the big fireworks going off nearby, what I found myself fascinated by was watching the aerials going off below us, against the backdrop of the shallow jewel-bowl of lights that’s nighttime Albuquerque. The gaudy little fire-flowers would bloom briefly, lights on lights, and disappear.

They looked like a volcanic display on the surface of an alien world. Or maybe discharges on the face of an alien star.

Driving home was surreal. Fireworks blossoming in the air on both sides of me, some quite close at hand. Some really loud blasts, too – a couple loud enough to give me a turn.

Of course, when I got home, somebody was way glad to seem me. Somebody who always is, but was even gladder than usual.

Emma: Dad! Where’d you go? Why were you gone so long? I’m all scared! There were ‘SPLOSIONS!

Indeed, though it’s coming on 11 PM, the show’s still rattling and cracking on out there. Occasionally I see a bright flash through the front curtains as I sit in my recliner in the living room writing this.

I’d love to be outside watching the wonderful display. I love it.

But somebody is lying up against my left foot, who hasn’t gone out to potty or even eat her long-deferred dinner. And she needs me to be here. Until things quiet down.

Hope you had a good one, everybody. I did.

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