Was this what my fellow classmates had been raving about? The thing that had caused so much jealousy and excitement when I had announced to my friends that I was finally going to see it?

I looked up past the throngs of people at the Magic Kingdom castle. It looked lovely, lit up in blues and whites, like it was covered in ice and diamonds, but I couldn’t help bet feel a little disappointed. I didn’t know what I had been expecting, but with all the hype surrounding it, I was hoping for a little more than a decked out building with lights on it.
 

The line surged forward and I grouchily ground a knuckle into the corner of my eye, glowering at the back of the man in front of me. It was already past my bedtime, and it was another hour until the fireworks began. I wasn’t even sure that I wanted to see them. Not that I would ever admit it, but I was a little scared since I’d never seen fireworks before. My mother had convinced me to give it a try, though.

“I bet you’ll love it,” she’d said, “ this might be the only time you get to see them! The fireworks are part of the Disney magic!”

Disney Magic.

That was all I’d been hearing, ever since I was old enough to understand what my peers were constantly talking about. Princesses, fairies, beautiful songs, and most importantly, the thrilling magic that had everyone captivated from the moment they walked in the gate.

Well, I was a full five years old. It was going to take a lot more than bubbles and flashy lights to impress me. If I were going to rave about Disney World, it would be because it deserved my praise, not because someone else thought it did. If one more Tigger reached out to hug me, I would take him down.

Aggression worked as well as caffeine.

Finally at the front of the trailing line, my mother and I stepped up to the gate, where a pudgy old lady wearing Mickey Mouse ears checked our tickets.

As she scanned my ticket she looked at me with smiling eyes.

“Hello Princess! And how old are you?”

I gave her my very best death stare and answered her shortly.

“Five.”
Apparently, she didn’t get the message.
“Ooh, getting big! Excited for the fireworks?”

Changing tactics, I dropped my glare and gave her a very pretty smile.

“Oh, yes!”

Imbecile, I thought. She must have believed I couldn’t hear the high pitched baby voice she was using.

My mother looked down at me sympathetically. She knew I hated it when adults acted like I didn’t have a mind of my own, and she must have realized that I was faking the grin.

As we passed through the gates she said “I appreciate that you’re being so nice to the people who keep wanting to talk to you around here.”

Nice? Ha!

The glowing lights lit up Mom’s face, giving her a golden look.
Maybe I should have been more understanding towards that lady at the gate. I felt a little guilty now. She probably had younger grandkids and just wanted me to be happy. I was justified in my grumpiness, though. It was already 8:15! Way past when I was usually in bed.

I tried to look at all the wonderful things around me.

The multi colored bulbs were blinking on and off all around, giving a warm and Christmassy feel to everything they cast their light on.

The smells were heavenly. I’d already eaten dinner, but the scent of grilled fish from a brick building to my right made me wish I hadn’t.

Children shrieked as they tripped on the cobblestone streets, but came up laughing again, clutching at their parent’s sleeves to right themselves.

With such a cheerful atmosphere, it was hard not to start giggling along with everyone else as they enjoyed the sights and each other’s company, but I managed it. My grouchiness wouldn’t be so easily thwarted as the weaklings around me!

I forgot all about trying to appreciate the sights.

Instead, I focused on how that rolling robot toy was clearly being controlled by that man over there fidgeting with something under his bag. It wasn’t magic if it was obviously artificial.

My mother nudged me and said “I know you were interested in that Dumbo ride we passed earlier. How about we go check out the line?”

I smiled in spite of myself. That had been appealing. Besides, we still had 45 minutes to kill before the fireworks started. I certainly wasn’t about to waste that time.

All eyes were on the sky. My mother and I were crushed together in the middle of a massive crowd, which was pressing in on our backs and sides as the castle finally stopped glowing blue for better viewing of the black space over our heads. I snuggled closer to Mom. I was still a little scared of the loud blasts I knew would come with the display.

The odor of sweat hung low over the tenfold deep mass. I didn’t know what ‘tenfold’ meant, but it sounded about right to describe the hundreds, no, thousands of people forced into one uneven body, heads of younger children poking up over the shoulders of their fathers in an effort to see better.

A surprising hush rippled across the crowd, and aside from a few squalling babies, there was silence as the music began.

I could see the first rocket as it soared upwards, and could hear the slight whistle that followed it. I winced when it cracked and thundered, a little nervous, but then marvelled as the point of light multiplied into hundreds of burning sparks, floating down until they winked out of existence just above our heads.

Captivated, I slowly stopped dreading the boom that accompanied the brightly colored bursts. All of my daily concerns were stripped away, and I saw only the fireworks.
Who knew so many colors existed? None of it could be natural, but I was glad something like this existed in the world.

Mom squeezed my hand and sighed slightly. She seemed happy to be seeing this with me.

Pulling myself away for a moment, I looked around me at the hoard of people.

I realized then that they weren’t a hoard any more. They were real individuals, hugging their loved ones close to share a moment of beauty. Some of these people would never see this again, and they all just wanted to savor the moments with their family when everyone was happy.

A pair of girls around my age wearing light-up Cinderella dresses looked like they’d never seen anything more wonderful in their lives. A boy with an orange popsicle hummed to the song playing as his parents looked on, laughing. There were people hugging and holding hands as they looked up at the display. No matter who they were, they looked happy.

It didn’t matter that this moment was man-made and planned within an inch of its life. It didn’t matter that strangers were pushed up claustrophobically close on all sides. All that mattered was having a memory to share and relive with those you cared about the most.

The ability to pull  families together and create a special bond that could last forever.

Not bad for Disney magic.