Tonight as I watched the fireworks, and continued listening to them as I got ready for bed, I couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to live in a different time. The following is three different examples of what I pondered tonight. (I make no promises that they are completely historically accurate, but I tried my best)
The time is 1778, I am 19 years old, still single and living with my parents. My father and several of our nieghbors supported a Declaration of Independence, penned to declare our colonies free from Brittan. I am scared, scared for his life and for my own. Life is so difficult, there is constant oppression, or so it seems from King George. My father is at war to fight for our freedom. Things at home are stressful, mostly from the fear that father might die. Sometimes during the day if you listen, You can hear the cannons and noise of gunshots ringing. The stress is high, but in the end, I know that we will somehow be free to practice what we feel is right again.
The year is 1863. I am 19 years old; I live with my parents and help take care of the house and my siblings while my daddy is at war. This war is between the U.S. and the Confederates. My father is fighting for the Union. He is fighting against my eldest brother, who against my father's will bought himself a few slaves for his plantation. This war is pure evil; this war is literally a life or death matter. The life of our family as a whole depends on the outcome of this war. The life of the thousands of slaves depends on this war. Everyday we pray for peace, and an agreement as well as for the life of my brother and father and their relationship. Everytime I hear a gunshot, or a cannon I am reminded of the freedoms that I have in this great country.
It is Early August 1944. I am living in Germany. There is a great war all around us. I am scared for my life, constantly. I worry about the pain and anguish being caused to those who don't deserve it. I live near Normandy, a place that was invaded by Americans nearly two months ago, on June 6. We were so grateful to see the Americans. I remember that night as clear as day, the gunshots and missles, and various artillery kept me awake all night. I feared for the worst. My family huddled in a small bomb shelter with many of our neighbors, waiting for the noise to cease. But the noise brought great joy as well; it meant that many of my friends and neighbors would soon be free, and that I would be free from Adolf Hitler's evil reign. As we laid there huddled together for warmth, we wondered all night if we would even have the privilege of seeing daylight again, or if a stray bomb would sink us into a never-ending pit of darkness. This has been the scariest night of all my 19 years and five months of my existence.
And now the year is 2012, I am safely home in my bed in Utah, while my country wages yet another war; this time with countries in the middle east. I hear the symbolic bombs outside my window and wonder of all the many lives lost too soon. I think of the foxholes that became soldiers graves, I think of the mom's and Dad's, brothers and sisters, and other friends who are in harms way, to protect my freedoms. And everytime I hear the sound of that bomb, I can't help but imagining what the feeling must be when the smoke clears and there in the morning is proof that our flag is still there and that we are still free. I think I would jump for joy, and run to tell everyone.
And so I ask you, what do you think of when you see/ hear fireworks.
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