The Ventura County Fair shoots off fireworks each night during its run and Clare and I went down tonight to watch them from a street on the downtown Ventura hillside. Clare reminded me that the first time I took her to see the fireworks, she was maybe two years old (we think) and that she was all bundled up in her jammies and snugly strapped into her carseat with a blanket. I'm pretty sure she fell asleep on the drive home from the fireworks. It's a good memory for her, and a good memory for me.
It's funny how the unplanned things in your life often trump the big, planned, formal occasions in terms of being memorable. We've gone down there to watch them off-and-on since, catching them most of the years since then, but not always.
Sitting there on a wall on Poli Street above downtown and the fairgrounds with my going-to-be-a-sophomore teenaged daughter made me realize (again) that we are a long ways away from the days of car seats and blankets and jammies, and those days are gone, at least until grandchildren are in the picture. (Which better not be any time soon.) A circle of life moment, I suppose.
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