This is what I live for. Nights like this.
Sitting on a grass hill by the river, my four-year-old son somehow balancing perfectly on my right leg, his knees bent and legs splayed lazily outward, his feet planted on the lower part of my thigh just above my knee. My two-year-old daughter sitting on my left leg in the same manner as my son. Me, sitting happily upright with my arms wrapped around their little bellies, bellies that are full and round from the dinner I made and fed them not so long ago, a dinner which my son said was Delicious and thanked me for making him.
For once, in what seems like ages, both of my children are sitting close to each other and aren’t fighting.
For once, in what seems like ages, we aren’t in a hurry.
On this night, we don’t have a schedule, and I love that.
The sky is darkening and the air temperature outside is perfectly warm and comfortable. People are slowly gathering around us, spreading out tarps to sit on, meeting their friends. We, my son, daughter, and I, are just waiting, completely relaxed and content, focused on the barge that is floating in the river not more than fifty yards in front of us.
From behind us, a gentle female voice pours out of the stack of speakers on top of the hill. It bounces off buildings and echoes back to us from across the river. The gentle voice announces to all gathered that they are about to see an unusual fireworks display, one that is entirely synchronized to music.
As the announcement ends, the sounds of violins and cellos blare into the night. A rocket shoots up into the sky. Flares light up on the barge before us and send showers of red sparks sprinkling into the twilight.
My children Ooooh and Awww on my lap. The music picks up, moving from a soft, dreamlike, classical string ensemble to a terse horn and windwood section that is pounding with tension and bass.
Fireworks tear up into the sky at various angles. They anticipate and mirror the music’s changes, from classical to pop, pop to rock, rock to disco, disco to dance. Some of the music I remember from childhood. Some of the music I've never heard before.
I bounce my legs up and down to the rhythm of the music. My children bounce up and down on top of my legs. They giggle and smile and I hold them tighter, leaning forward into their backs. I'm feeling the music and doing my best to dance to it while sitting down with two children on my lap.
My children are having fun. They squeal and call out in excitement. They turn their heads and look at me. Their eyes are bursting with joy.
This, I think. This is enough for me.
Being unhurried and outdoors with my children. Listening to loud music and watching fireworks. Feeling and sharing each other's excitement.
This is what I live for, nights and moments like these.