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Fireworks on the 4th of July

Memories of childhood become faded things.

Sometimes the details escape us. So, we fill them in with our imagination and they become a mixture of fact and fiction.

What never escapes us is how the event caused us to feel. We fully remember the poignancy, the happiness, or the sadness without regard to what our mind fills in to complete the recollection.

a burst of fireworks

One such flashback for me is my fourth birthday. I remember it as my fourth but even here my memory is sketchy. I recall the trip to and from, my oldest brother—who is fifteen years older—carrying me over the empty train tracks to a clearing in a patch of grass where we would watch the fireworks. Just the two of us—and this very special moment.

I've always looked up to him and even then, I knew I wanted to write stories just as he did. Because of him, I understood what it meant to use my imagination and create stories like those in the books my mother read to me.

On this special birthday, he and I sat in the grass where he pointed to the bursts of red, blue, and white exploding in the summer night sky. "See those," he said to me, "they're for you. To celebrate your birthday."


Picture of a smokestack surrounded by brick buildings and a steeple.
Poem and Photo by Joie Lesin



the city’s sky,

she found herself.


the smokestacks,

she rose.


the clouds showed her freedom

and she followed.

Until next time,

Author Joie Lesin

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About the Author

Joie Lesin, Author of Speculative Fiction

Minnesota-based author, Joie Lesin is a life-long fiction writer and the author of The Passenger. She has long been fascinated by anything otherworldly including ghosts. She loves to write a good ghost story—especially when it includes a touch of romance.

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