We drove up a steep and windy road to get there. When we reached the top of the hill, we scrambled out of the car and made our way through the house to the backyard. Rama and I found two lawn chairs in the corner of the yard and sat down. We were just in time for the fireworks.
I turned to Rama to see where he was looking, but he was looking at me.
“I see fireworks in your eyes,” he said.
It sounded like a line out of a movie, but he meant it literally: There were fireworks everywhere. A big glittery show directly in front of us (in Burbank, I think), another display way off to the right (was that the ocean?) and several small and at least half a dozen illegal fireworks shooting into the sky (they felt dangerously close). Even the hills were glowing.
I felt silly that, just an hour before, I had bragged about how I used to see Disneyland’s fireworks from my family’s backyard every night, because this was unlike any fireworks show I’d ever seen. The entire sky was lit up in dazzling color, and we had the best seats in the house.