Page 87 of Glass Half Full

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Smell the burning ozone in the air

As a hero falls to Earth for the very first time.

I stand beside the woman on the porch of her farmhouse

Hear the wood creak beneath her feet

As she raises her hand to her lips and murmurs

‘It’s a miracle’

Just loud enough for me to hear.

I leave the theatre

With my mother’s hand in mine

And that word on my lips.

I do not know what it means.

I only know that some lights are too bright to stare at

And some moments make my heart rise in my chest

Like its valves and chambers have sprouted wings.

I repeat the word to myself as we leave:

Miracle. Miracle. Miracle.

Two months later we sit on a blanket

In a park filled with tall grass that brushes my knees.

The sky pops, fizzles, and bursts

With the brightest explosions I have ever seen.

They tear the sky to pieces

And I jump to my feet

Quaking with the roar in the air

To shout

‘Mom, it’s a miracle! It’s a miracle!’

And someone calls out

‘Would you shut that kid up?’

But my mother

Just smiles wide enough to catch every light in the sky with her teeth

And stares at the silhouette of her son against his first fireworks show.

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