Let's go again

August. It's summer.

That said, lately it's been nothing but cloudy skies or rain, and the temperatures haven't been great either.

I find myself missing the summer heat that makes you want to complain, "It's hot, it's hot."

Even under such gloomy, cloudy skies, the festival season has arrived in the town where we live.

The three of us in the family head out to watch the fireworks on the first night.
A light drizzle is still falling, and the temperature is low.

So, this year, we decided to watch them from inside the car.

As the time for the fireworks approaches, the people who have gathered start to get restless, looking up at the sky.

"Hey, not yet?" my daughter asks, bored.

Boom.

Fireworks going off from a little distance away.

They've started.

Boom.

Crackle, crackle, crackle.

Boom.

Pop, pop, pop.

I think I might like watching fireworks from a small hill better than from directly underneath them.

"That's red!" "That's yellow!" we said, the three of us gazing at the sky while I held my daughter.

"Rainbow!" my daughter said happily.

Then, BOOM! The loudest sound yet.

An extra-large firework draws a beautiful pattern and scatters with a crackling sound.

At that moment, my daughter's hand, which I was holding, tightened.


"...Scary."


Maybe my daughter doesn't like loud noises.


"Hey, let's go home."

"Yeah, let's go home."


It was still early, but we got into the car as if to escape the sound of the fireworks.

We drive away, glancing at the people enjoying the festival.

It's past the time she's usually in bed.

As I drive, I look at my daughter through the rearview mirror.

She says in a slightly sleepy voice,



"The fireworks were fun, weren't they?"

"Let's go again."