...you were with us as we packed up the car and drove north to pick up his parents. Of course you stole the scene by bonding over fly fishing, but I didn't mind. On the short walk to the riverfront, you grabbed my hand. After we'd staked out our spot, we took a walk down the crowded riverwalk, stopping to appreciate the throwback trio of street musicians. You especially appreciated the banjo; I said I preferred the stand up bass, but just to be contrary. Either way, their high energy, toe tapping performance and an impromptu do-si-do helped while away the hours we had to wait before the big ooooh aaaaah.
Last year, the brand-master corporate sponsor handed out 3D style paper glasses that turned the show into a bonanza of miniature logos across the night sky. This year, it was light-up red yoyos. You laughed as we raced to master the troublesome toys.
"Mine's broken!" complained Big Ten.
"Gee, mine's working great now that I've broken it in." she mocked, and then added "let me try yours."
She retied the loop on the defective yoyo into a slipknot and proceeded to have little trouble with it, though it didn't light up as spectacularly as hers had.
"Seems fine to me :-P "
Of course Stacy won. She is a fierce competitor, and a force to be reckoned with where yoyos are concerned.
At 10pm sharp, the first burst of light tore across the night sky. As we settled in for the show, my hand made its way across the chasm between our chairs and interlaced its fingers into yours.
There's nothing I love more than the perfect fireworks show...