For Rosa - Part 1

Ever since I made writing a hobby, I've had a weird obsession to fireworks. I just love how you can use it as a symbolism for beauty, joy, and hope, but can also represent short-lived happiness.

Delve into the life of Grandpa Rupert as he retells his story of love, a story about the things that he did for Rosa.
I hope you enjoy reading it. It's still in the making, but I already finished the plot for it. I'll divide it by parts. Still kind of an amateur at writing stories, but I really love doing this so I hope you don't mind.

#steemitfamilyph
#steemph

Genre: Romance, Drama

---

"Darling, bring me the shells!" I heard my old man calling from downstairs. He's probably opening his workshop again. I turned off the radio and joined gramps in the warehouse to grab the firework shells. "It's that time of the year again lass. We'll start this year off with a BLAST!" he said grinning.

Growing up, Grandpa Rupert always showed his love for fireworks. While everybody was preparing for Christmas, Gramps only cared about the New Year. While others were partying, we were working day and night. As everyone had fun in town, I help Gramps up here in the mountains making and testing fireworks. We had to move up here so that we'd stop getting complaints from our neighbors when we test our fireworks. I got used to living a simple lifestyle thanks to him, but I never did acquire his love for fireworks.

It was Christmas Eve and it was a usual day of work for us. As we were taking a break, we gazed upon the city lights. You get a view of the whole town up here in the mountains. Each year, the town square never fails to amaze me. Trails of Christmas lights hang by the lamp posts. Along with the honking cars and lively houses filled with children opening gifts, the lights scattered around town like stars in the sky. We sat there in silence, enjoying the view of the town as the radio played Christmas jingles for us, sipping on our hot cocoa to warm us in this cold night.

“Gramps, I don’t think I’ve ever asked you before. But why did you start making fireworks?” I could see his faint smile as he kept silent… “Why’d you ask you teenybopper?” he asked back as he giggled a bit. “Well I don’t know. You just seem so happy making them.” He remained silent again. “Let’s just say I did it in the name of love.”

I burst out laughing. I didn’t know he was such a romantic guy. “But, why fireworks though? Isn’t it a bit odd to make fireworks for a girl? I’d rather have guys buying me food and clothes than making fireworks for me. It’s just pretty lights though, and it only lasts for a few seconds. And als…”, “Foolish girl!” he cut me off. I was surprised that he suddenly raised his voice like that. He stood up and headed inside the workshop. I also did the same as I finished my cup.

The radio DJ filled the awkward silence in the room. The radio sung about reindeers dashing through the snow as we continued making fireworks. I just kept silent, too afraid to say anything.

“Happiness.” He suddenly uttered. “Have you ever seen someone frown watching fireworks?” “No.” I replied as I shook my head. “Every sparkle and flickering light bring a message of joy. You don’t need to understand it. You just can’t help but feel happy watching it. Even if we’re apart, you’d understand that I’m sending you happiness.” He articulated.

I’ve never heard him talk this way before. After when I thought he was finished, he still had something to say. “This light brings joy, this light brings new hope. Don’t you ever dare say that my fireworks are just pretty lights!” I was speechless. I could see him tearing up a bit. I was really surprised to see him act this way. He fled the workshop and went to his room. I feel like I've stepped on a landmine.

The workshop was a mess. Firework shells were everywhere, and firework stars were left open. I set aside everything properly as the radio sung on this lonely night.

I didn't have the courage to face him. It makes me wonder, what could have happened in his past? There was nothing on my mind that night but curiosity.