Fireworks From the Roof

Every Fourth of July, my brothers and I climb onto the flat roof of our parents' house to watch the fireworks. We've been doing it since we were kids. Back then we had to sneak up there. Now our mom hands us the snacks.

This year was the first time all four of us were home at the same time in five years. One brother flew in from Seattle. One drove up from Atlanta with his new wife. My little brother brought his twin daughters, who are two and thought the fireworks were the most magical thing that had ever happened.

We sat up there in a row, the way we always did, sharing a bag of popcorn. Every time a big one went off, the twins screamed "Again!" and the whole roof laughed.

My mom came up for the finale. She hasn't climbed that ladder in twenty years. She said she wasn't going to miss having all her babies in one place.

Neither was I.