Silent Struggle

The tables, covered with red checkered tablecloths Mrs. Grayfox had made especially for this occasional event, were loaded with coleslaw, baked beans, corn bread, and a mix of salads including three-bean, pasta, lettuce salad, and one of the neighbors had brought tabouli that received many comments because no one had tried it before. “Jim, you outdid yourself with that side of beef this year,” said Amos, staring at the glowing embers in the firepit.

“Think it’s dark enough for the fireworks?” Sam asked.

Everyone looked up. “Yeah, now is good,” his father replied. “Y’all set things up on the other side of the pond, and I’ll get everyone settled here for the show.”

The display was spectacular, fascination etched on every child’s face as the continual bursts of light danced like fingers through the sky. When the last explosion of color had faded away, Mr. Grayfox stoked the fire and threw on a few more logs. Everyone gathered around the roaring flames, sitting on quilts, the grass, or chairs pulled from around the sawhorse tables to enjoy ancient tribal tales and the occasional ghost story.