You pulled my arm and tugged me out into the street as soon as you heard the noise. They were setting off fireworks from the sports ground and you were desperate to see the colours shaking the silence out of the night sky. Without looking back, you stopped in the driveway, eyes wide as your pupils reflected the timed bursts of reds and blues. When you pulled my arms closer around your shoulders, I felt briefly disappointed that I could no longer see the childlike joy on your face. Luckily, I could feel that excitement running through the tremors that rippled your skin. I buried my face in your roughly made ponytail and breathed in, committing the scent of your preferred shampoo to my memory.
“You’re not watching,” you complained, gasping as yet more glistening explosions cracked through the clouds.
“I don’t need to,” I replied, letting my eyes fall closed against the back of your head.
I heard every ripple of colour. I felt the patterns of celebration that dripped and faded through the backdrop of stars. Your joy was enough for both of us and I couldn’t see myself ever believing in an experience more valuable than sharing it.
About the contributor: Sarah Jane Justice is an established writer in the fields of poetry, prose and music. Among her career highlights are performing in the national final of the 2018 Australian Poetry Slam, writing and performing an original show in the 2016 Adelaide Fringe Festival, and presenting at the 2019 Adelaide Writer’s Week.