Her little head can’t quite keep with the pace as the firework blasts up and up and up. Her eyes settle on the splash of color contrasting the black sky. Not looking quite happy or scared, she reclines right past my elbow into awe. She looks more like one working a math problem than a kiddo pursuing giggles and delight. Tucked into my lawn chair arm, she snuggles closer as pops and whizzes dot sky. “Oooh” she croons, a little too late, but still in context. Applause greets the last fuse sending one skyward, and I look toward the dad proudly holding his board of firework debris. He’s sweaty, but soak-smiling in the applause from family and his kids. Neighbor skies continue to light up as I look down to notice my own little one’s face, pale with energy drained out in sleep. She snoozes through the noise, but I’m not surprised after today’s living. Like a magnet, she’s the one holding me–stronger than all the clamoring beauty, as her quiet face reflects each color splash. Together we breathe quiet as her little chest keeps a slow cadence under the world running around us.