Playing With Firecrackers

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school kitchens, throwing them at two other friends, who were sitting on a limestone retaining wall and throwing firecrackers at us. The fireworks are chaos - their explosive gifts finding their own time and space. As they do, I am the spectator, the one seeing their blazing trails arc above. There's something about them that warms me even in the cold. Between the explosions, we tried to think of something less boring to do. Most of our firecrackers were Black Cats, but we had some cherry bombs, too, and one of those blew up a few inches above my left foot. When I could hear again, and when Deepak and I had stopped laughing, I noticed a nickel-size piece of cherry-bomb shrapnel embedded in the rubber toe cap of my sneaker.

When I pulled on it, it came out of my foot like a cork, and blood spread up through the canvas and into the laces. Deepak called the teacher and he drove me to the office of my doctor, a pediatrician. The waiting room was full of mothers and weepy ...

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