There are several definitions of the word ‘Fireworks’. One is the traditional merriment we all try to witness on July 4th or any other festive occasion where someone is willing to foot a very large bill for spectacular pyrotechnics.

My ‘brother’ Mark is responsible for a memorable New Year’s Eve fireworks display every year. And to my knowledge he’s still sporting all of his fingers and other required body parts.

We did view the City of New Bedford’s display on Saturday night over the harbor. A group of friends brought food and chairs to our boat and we created a fabulous bottleneck on the C Dock of Fairhaven Shipyard’s south yard. The traffic jam allowed us to meet folks in the other slips, and share our beverages and desserts. Some of the group even got the tour of our slip neighbors John and Ellen’s tug boat, and by the end of the night our cousin Sandy was calling me the mayor.

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Never has the City of New Bedford started their fireworks display on time, and certainly not before dark. As my cousins Anita and Bob and I rowed the inflatable over to shore to get it out of the water for the night the fireworks started! The sky was still pretty bright. Bad timing on their and our part, but Anita did get a very funny picture of me looking over Bob’s shoulder during the ride.

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The other definition of ‘Fireworks’, at least in my internal dictionary, is a blow up, an explosion of anger and vitriol, a big to-do over an issue. And I’m struggling with some of that this week as well.

Years of therapy have (finally) convinced me that responding to anything in haste is bad. Words said cannot be retracted, and, in this case, if those flood gates open a seven-nation army would be hard pressed to close them. My issue with the person who contacted me is how irretrievably they have damaged someone I love and yet they feel they can just show up, pretend that nothing has happened and assume we can just be friends. I can see some of you now saying to yourselves, “Ooh, no. This isn’t good. We’ve seen her in action.”

Those of you with whom I’ve worked have watched me with tough clients and tough colleagues and know I have no problem taking someone to scorched earth. It’s appeared on my past performance reviews more than once (and not in a good way). What do I want when this happens? I want justice. I want to fix things and I want to right wrongs. I want truth to be told and to dash once and for all the fantasies people have made up in their heads. Will any of those things happen if I engage now? No. If this person wasn’t bright enough to see the irreparable harm being done, or did and chose not to correct it anyway I have no hope that they will ever make anything right. I just can’t comprehend the expectation that there would be no umbrage, that all would be forgiven and we could just pick up where we left off.

Thankfully my circle, who have had even more years of therapy than I, are available when I approach the ledge. A quick call this morning and a friend talked me down. My scorched earth turned into a do not engage, and I just blocked the calls and texts so I don’t need to see them or hear them.

I’m putting all this into the hands of Karma. I think there have been enough fireworks for a while.

Deborah