My Sparkling Life

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Yes, it really did happen—I really did catch on fire. Now, mind you, not the Joan of Arc burned at the stake type of fire, but a fire nonetheless. What irony for this to happen on the Fourth of July! Allow me to explain. We had just moved from Glendora to Baldwin Park and I was in my 9th year of life. That is the perfect age to welcome fireworks to one’s life, but especially sparklers. I think everyone can remember writing messages in the sky with a sparkler in hand and a dream in one’s eyes. My anticipation to light fireworks that day was like Scooby Doo salivating for Scooby Snacks. And so, later that night, while changing into my purple ombre dress, I kept hearing my family say, “No, that one’s too dangerous,” and they would pass it to the next person. How dare they light fireworks without me! I thought. It was late that night and the fireworks were as bright as the sun in the sky. But as I remember, my impatience got the best of me and I had had enough. I went to my bigger sister and said, “I have been waiting a long time and you guys are hogging all the good fireworks! Can I please light the last one?” I begged with my puppy eyes. My sister turned to face me giving me one hundred percent of her attention. She spoke reluctantly, “Actually they just lit the last.” I was crushed like a used can. “But… but…I waited,” I spoke in a dry voice. Big sisters can have a nice side so she took me to the firework booth again. She thought to buy the “sparklers only” for safety reasons. Lucky for me, we all got our own box of sparklers. Five sparklers later, I was like those excited children in the movie Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, only I wasn’t spoiled. I simply was enjoying the dazzling light and forever flames etching words and dreams in the sky. I was three sparklers away from finishing my box when someone screamed some muffled words. I didn’t really pay any attention but I could feel a warmth on my leg. I simply continued to enjoy the sparkle. But then my private dream came crashing down when the sparkle caught into my flesh and my cousins started batting me. I was hit from all sides; my dress now looking like a potato sack, complete with puffs of smoke. But all that batting did put out the fire– only to leave purple bruises and one holey dress. When I think back on that day, I find that I now I listen better to those older and wiser than me. That would include my mom who always has my best interest. I think I see the beauty of family that helps one another and put out fires, even if it leaves bruises. Since I’m older now, I light my fireworks with care but still write words in the sky to

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