I've been thinking about what to call this post - my first post after a 2 year hiatus from blogging. I've decided just to call it what it is, July 4th in the place I call home.
As I sit here at my computer chair in the light of the desklamp that kept me company these past several years, I listen. The cricket that made its way up the drain pipe is my only company right now as I hear the soft sounds of children sleeping in their beds after sunshine and waterslides have taken the best of their energy. We managed to make it through this day with only one meltdown, a blessing indeed. Yet, I know that there will eventually come a day when I just wish I could get that one meltdown back so that I'd have another moment with them when they were little.
Not so little, really.
The day started with a parade. The bikes spent the morning in the garage with wheels up in the air, trying to get them aired up and working. We succeeded with one. Red, white and blue decorations adorned us and our puppy as we walked the 3-block parade on a street that I've known well since I was fourteen. One light nap later, and we were off for some swimming. It was a hot day, and we reapplied sunscreen twice. We spent time with friends, one in particular that I feel sad when I see because he's moving away from here. Away from Mayberry. He's such a calming presence, and he floated into our lives and is now floating on.
After swimming at the pool, we were off to a friend's home for a barbecue. It was a beautiful night, and some bug spray and sparklers made it all the more perfect. An oasis of a backyard was our dining room, and we visited as the sun set under twinkling lights. People I've known my entire life, my children and their children in a home that their mom grew up in. Three generations sharing a magic moment. Fireworks and a city view together with our shameless children singing the star spangled banner.
The last photograph I took of the evening was one of a wall of crosses I admired at the home of our host. I was amazed at how an instrument of torture could turn into one of the most beautiful symbols, the irony of how to gain our life we must lose it....how freedom finds us.