Lauren+Memoir

Lauren Memoir

Lauren Hofferbert One Blistering 4th of July

I could practically taste the ripe cantaloupe and juicy honeydew fruit salad that Terry always brought even before we pulled into the brown wood and stone home of Nora and Harry’s. My little 9 (or 10) year old self was literally bouncing with anticipation in the seat. One of my favorite parts about 4th of July was the fact that we always went to Nora and Harrys for the fireworks. We would all gather around with friends and family and eat and the kids would play and it was the best time. Because they lived on the river there was always a great view, we even were so close the burning remints of the fireworks sometimes fell on us, but we were never to worried about getting seriously hurt. Down on the back lawn of Nora and Harry’s, my good friend Emily and I had run into each other. I also had found my best friend Roc Bauman. Now the Bauman boys were one of the most reckless and deviant children I have ever met. But Roc Bauman was my best friend and I loved him for it. Their deviance also had gotten us ahold of some firecrackers. So we were playing with them and watching them be thrown on the ground and explode and make a wonderful sight, so appealing to children our age. A little later on and as the evening grew darker and darker in anticipation for the fireworks. Emily and I were on the green hill on the side of the house playing with lit firecrackers, watching them sparkle and shine like Christmas tinsel. Emily told me that her mom use to spit on her fingers and put the flame of a candle out by pinching it. So she told me to spit on my fingers and try it. “Its easy, my mom does it all the time with candles at home.” So eh what the heck, I was young and stupid. So in the darkness, I spit on my fingers. Missing of course. And didn’t notice until I sandwiched the burning hot flame of the lit firecracker with nothing but my young and stupid little 9 (or 10) year old fingers. But it didn’t go out and I had burned my fingers. But I was so busy with the fact that my fingers were scorching, I didn’t see the flame of the firecracker in my other hand go out and up into the firecrackers colorful circular red, purple and black body. BANG! The firecracker went of with a sickening loud bang. I dropped it immediately. But it was so late. It had gone off in my hands and I immediately felt the sweltering pain on both my right and left hand. I screamed. It felt like my hands were on fire. Terry Bauman came rushing over to me and grabbed me, trying to break through my sobs and screams to find out what was wrong. “Lauren, sweetie what happened?! Lauren talk to me, please!” I could only hold out my hands. To be honest I’m not sure exactly what happened after that. I knew that my parents were called over and Nora ran into the house to get ice. I remember Dane Bauman laughing that I “would be the one to get hurt.” Roc was nervous and scared for me but trying to comfort me the best a 10 year old could. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, partial relief came in the form of cold frozen cubes of water in clear Ziploc freezer bags. Standing on the hill to the back yard my mom and Nora were holding the bags of ice so that I could rest my hands on them. They weren’t sure whether to call the ambulance or not. They decided not to and there I stood for hours crying with my hands on these two bags of ice. Dane and Roc were on ice duty because after a few minutes, the fire from my hands would melt the ice so quickly that I needed new bags. My hands still felt like they were on fire. I heard the engine of Terry’s Durango rev up as she drove away. I sobbed out to Nora, “Why is she leaving me?!” She responded with a short but simple. “We need more ice”. I felt terrible for ruining this annual event for them but everyone was more worried rather then upset. But over in the distance I could hear Emily’s mom yelling at her as to “why on earth she would tell me to spit on my fingers to put a firecracker out.” I felt a little smug that she was being yelled at. She was the reason for all of this! She was the one who told me to spit on my fingers and put the firecracker out. Now being so little I never placed the blame on myself. Once I grew older I began to realize that spitting on my fingers and attempting to put out a burning wick of a firecracker was not the smartest idea. From that 4th of July on Emily and I stuck to being more acquaintances rather then friends. I also became deathly afraid of hot things, not playing with a sparkler or firecracker again till I was almost 14. To this day I still will avoid the oven, stove and fire in fear of the heat that once traumatized me.