Wrote this on the Fourth of July and only recently decided it was decent enough to upload. It's really short and not that good, but I hope someone enjoys it, at least! (also, how do you endings? xD)
As children, they sat on the roof of a minivan, glow sticks clutched in chubby toddler hands, the multihued blossoms in the sky entrancing them with their globular patterns. The sticky heat of the night surrounded them as they licked drips of vanilla ice cream from the tips of the cone, rainbow sprinkles threatening to abandon their posts on the pillar of dairy coldness. Both sets of eyes, sparkling teal and cold grey, reflected the sparkles that blocked out the stars. The only thing that existed were the fireworks.
At twelve, they watched from a picnic blanket under a tree. The branches blocked some of their view, but they didn't mind. Errant blades of grass scratched at their legs, as fireflies flitted between bushes, attempting to match the fireworks with their brightness. The cannon-like sounds of the explosions barraged their ears, as the red and blue and gold sparks reflected off of her thick-lensed glasses, correcting her rapidly-failing sight.
His eyes were caught not simply by the colorful patterns in the sky, but by her auburn hair, curling outwards from her chin. The strands glowed gold under the fiery light, and he found himself wishing he had more time to examine it, to run his fingers through the waterfall of hair.
They wrote their names in the air with sparklers, watching as the letters faded away.
Sixteen, and they sat on a beach, sand brushing their legs and water around their toes. Their hands curled together, and at each shower of light, she would squint in its general direction through lenses as thick as possible. Her rapidly-deteriorating vision didn't hinder enjoyment of the display, though.
He watched her, not the fireworks, though she would never be able to tell. He was committing her appearance to memory, so he could always look back on this one night. And she, as always, was stunningly beautiful. The hair he loved, pushed back from her face. Glasses adorning a nose as sharp as her temper. Her lips curled into an excited grin. Truth be told, he didn't care about the fireworks, only about her.
As the sky exploded into color around them, and the ocean fragmented the light, he reached for her other hand. They turned, facing each other, and for once, his normally-grumpy features displayed a smile.
Under an orange moon, and the light of hundreds of fireworks, they shared their first kiss.
They watch as the three children fight for space on top of the car, light-up trainers and patriotic clothing taking up more space than actually necessary. The children fidget and whine as they wait for the fireworks to start. But he knows they will quiet down at the first explosion.
In their lawnchairs, the two stare not at the sky, but at each other. The first traces of grey have begun to appear in her hair, and her sightless teal eyes necessitate the use of the red-and-white cane leaning against the arm of the chair. At thirty-four, and a successful lawyer, she has accomplished more than those with her disability normally do.
His flame-red hair, dulled with age to a dusky orange, fans out around his head. His deep grey eyes see that which she cannot, and he murmurs descriptions of the sights which she had loved to see before she was robbed of the ability. Content, he interlaces his fingers with hers and leans back, recalling that the best times of their lives always seemed to happen while they were watching fireworks.