Saturday, February 23, 2013

An impromptu explosion of color and happiness

Photo by: Nicole Bond

Not thirty minutes ago, I was completely passed out on our hot purple, zebra striped couch.

Boom, boomboomboom, boom.

Twenty nine minutes ago, at 11p.m., I was suddenly upright on the couch, crazy hair and wrinkled clothes, wondering if Sean exploded a bag of popcorn in the lousy microwave again.

"Hurry!" Sean urged, smiling widely and making a beeline for our front door.

Boom!

Ah, fireworks. For the past week, ever since we've been home from Thailand, fireworks have been randomly going off: in the middle of trying to teach, early in the morning, in the middle of busy intersections, etc.

I think it would be completely fair to say that Taiwan has a bit of an obsession with pyrotechnics. 

But along with that obsessions comes expertise.

Boomboomboom.

I jumped off the couch looking for pants to throw on and shoes. After all, I had never seen a dull fireworks show in Taiwan.

I raced up the staircase after Sean, dodging the huge spiders that live in the corners and tried not to trip as I stumbled over the cables and pipes lining the roof.

Boom.

From every direction, brilliant fireworks exploded in the starry night sky, hundreds of floating light particles, green, red, yellow, descending back to earth just in time for others to take their place.

For more than 15 minutes, we leaned against the cracking rooftop wall, me in my long tee shirt and flip flops (I never did find those pants), captivated by the mystery and beauty of another Taiwanese moment we never could have anticipated.

Those, after all, are usually my favorite. 

So now, at 11:34p.m., I am wide awake.

But, you know, there are plenty worse ways to spend a Saturday night than startling awake to fire works and watching an impromptu light show with your man on your own deserted rooftop. Yes, definitely much worse ways like being left alone to sleep undisturbed through the night.

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