Stark silhouetted trees. It was a clear night and the stars were out.
Miss K watched the bonfire while Little L played with a ring of glow-sticks I had made. I tossed it out into the pitch darkness while she ran, squealing,to retrieve it. She would turn around, disorientated, and call out 'Mama!' I called her name so she could find her way back to me.
We sat on a picnic rug, covered with blankets to ward off the cold. Little L sat on my lap and burrowed her head into me and started to cry as the fireworks began, their loud bangs echoing around the valley. I calmed her down by telling her the fireworks were sending messages to angels in the sky and could she call out each colour as she saw the fireworks explode? Totally distracted, her tears stopped and she turned her face to the sky and watched the sparks shower down.
