"Those guys are something else! In Namsan, Seoul you have to wait a long time between each firework, but here it’s like a downpour—boom, boom, nonstop! It feels like a warzone!"
In Greenpoint, Brooklyn, by the East River there were always loud footsteps on the stairs on Independence Day. People would go up to the rooftop to watch the fireworks.
After moving around different places in New York, I was lucky enough to live somewhere where the fireworks exploded right above my head.
The streets were packed with excited people looking for the best spot to watch. But for us, we just needed to go up one floor to the roof. I’ve never been lucky in life—never won anything—but I guess I was lucky when it came to watching fireworks.
The fireworks seemed to fall right toward my face. At the end of the show, it was like they used every last bit of gunpowder—one explosion after another, nonstop. It really felt like a battlefield. We've been watching these fireworks every July 4th since 1984. So many stories over the years.
I didn’t want to enjoy the fireworks alone, so I invited many friends over the years. Some of them have passed away, and some have returned to Korea. Watching the backs of friends in the dark while we sit on the roof—that’s part of the joy. One funny thing I noticed: couples who were very affectionate, hugging tightly and acting like they couldn’t live without each other—most of them eventually disappeared and we never heard from them again. But the quiet couples, just sitting side by side, are still together.
“Those guys are something else!”
One of those excited friends later left his wife and daughter and remarried a younger woman. Now he has new kids. Another couple also divorced. They came back to watch the fireworks with new partners, hugging again with every explosion. But even that love didn’t last long. Maybe people who get too excited about the same things lose interest quickly. Maybe they live on excitement, not trust.
The fireworks rise with loud bangs, then burst high in the sky, lighting it up in beauty—then suddenly disappear. Just like that, the dark blue sky is left with only faint smoke. A love that burns quickly often fades just as fast. Then they get excited again with someone new… and again it fades. In the end, only emptiness remains.
Every Independence Day, I wonder where those former couples are now. Are they sharing new love with someone else? Or are they suffering from the emptiness of love that ended?
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