Last night I just couldn’t stay up to watch the fireworks. So, I opted for an early bed time, knee propped up, book in hand, and sleep sitting heavy on my eyes. I couldn’t see the fireworks, but I could hear the booms and sizzles as I lay there. With the patriotic themes, music, and thoughts of the day, my mind turned to those who heard different booms on the nights in the days when the Declaration of Independence was written, adopted, and presented to the people. As the word spread, battles had already been occurring. Virginia, North Carolina, South Carolina, Boston, and Montreal – many heard the boom of cannons and rifles.
I wondered about how they felt when they were hearing these booms, not the joy of fireworks and their beauty. But, the sound of gunpowder launching an arsenal of bullets towards the enemy; there must have been many frayed nerves, stomachs upset with tension, the pounding of hearts. The sound of hooves as horses and oxen moved men and artillery from place to place, the sound of feet moving together in marches across dirt roads. The sounds of booms.
And I also thought of different booms that occurred there shortly after attacks, after the war was over. These were the booms of hammers, tools rebuilding and fixing up of homes and cities. There were sounds of a new capital being built, saws moving through new wood, and celebrations that occurred.
Independence Day is a good day to celebrate with the boom of fireworks, so long as we don’t forget the booms that went into it.