Baby, You're a Firework

I had a little PTSD tonight. My nephews were playing with fireworks and it made me think my first time throwing a firecracker.

I was at my grandpa's sheep ranch--I was probably nine or ten. My uncle handed me a box of matches and a single firecracker. Then he gave me just two simple instructions: 1. Light the firecracker. 2. Throw it.

I got it almost right.

I lit the firecracker just fine. But then, instead of throwing the firecracker, I threw the match.

Boom! The firecracker exploded in my hand.

I still remember my burnt fingers and my ringing ears. And, of course, my bruised little ego.

Happy birthday, America.