Thursday, July 4, 2013
Today was a full day. A long day, but a good day. Woke up multiple times through the night with our dog Lucy who tends to go nuts when there are nights of wind and rain. So tired this morning, but happy that the temperatures had cooled down a little. We hurried and got ready for the parade. A tradition for as long as I can remember. Even from my own childhood. Missing it just wouldn't make the day feel complete.
We came home and I got busy in the kitchen. Homemade salsa, watermelon to cut, and a few other potluck dishes to share-- brocolli salad and peanut noodles. We then joined with some of my family for a picnic in the canyon. Again, welcoming a little bit of cool that brought with the higher elevation. It was crowded, naturally, -- we weren't the only ones with the same idea-- but we found a spot.
I ate too much. But it's a holiday and tomorrow is a new day. My dad brought along some old photographs from his Louisiana childhood. Some faces and stories of long ago relatives, too. While the boys played games on the grass, I went for a little meander up a trail. Having that quiet time to plant myself right in the middle of nature always feels nourishing and is something so grounding to me. I went back and brought Eliza back because it's her thing, too. (I'll be sharing more of that tomorrow.)
We came home and the kids watched a movie. I sank down on the couch and drifted off for a few minutes and wished for more.
Then it was time to head to the city firework show. Planting our chairs and our blankets on a strip of grass near the cemetery. We brought along some sparklers to do while we waited. That's as far as we've always seemed to go when it comes to home pyrotechnic shows. And as I sit here, and it's getting late, the noise and excitement around the neighborhood is finally starting to die down.
Another Independence Day has come and gone. Traditions remain, but are gradually evolving in their own way. I'm tired and am ready for the calm and rest that tomorrow will bring.
Grateful for my family. For my children here and there. For the memories of all these years. Thankful, so much, for the gift of freedom that is yours and mine and ours.