Happy 4th of July weekend.
The 4th holds many memories for me: driving from Long Island to Philly in traffic after our engagement party. That could’ve been the year H’s grandpa passed away suddenly. Another visit to Philly had us laid out on blankets in a park, in walking distance from his other grandparents’ home, watching fireworks. One year H went back East and I stayed here at this same apartment, walking miles with a friend to see the same firework show I saw tonight. Some years we didn’t see fireworks at all, like when my cousin got married and it was pouring rain. Or last year before our wedding, when the fireworks were scheduled for a day that wasn’t the 4th.
Back in high school, we’d all go down to Pirate’s Cove and camp… dragging supplies of grills, tents, beer and food in backpacks and via little boats. Walking, we had to beat the tide or else we wouldn’t be able to get around. I remember someone had a portable grill with a griddle and was frying eggs the next morning. I don’t remember sleeping, ever. It seems like a dream now, those nights. Walking the dunes, making out with a boyfriend, peeing in bushes…
There was one 4th that I fell hard for a guy that was all wrong for me. It’s so long ago, sometimes it feels like it didn’t happen. But it did.
And yesterday was the most normal July 4th I’ve had in forever. We slept in, took the dog to the park. We went out to our favorite breakfast place and ate pancakes and french toast and sipped coffee that was mostly creamer. We cleaned up and packed up and drove to the beach. Somehow received a parking miracle and found a patch of sand. It was crowded. We met my sister and some friends, but for a while, it was just H and I. He surfed. I read a book. Friends arrived and there were drinks. We left to go back home to feed and walk the dog, shower, and then biked back. It felt so good to be flying through the streets on my cruiser. We hung out in a bar, walked a ways to the firework show, and made it just in time.
They were huge, and magical, and loud. H kissed me with excitement. At the prettiest ones, the big golden ones that seem to shimmer and wave into the darkness, I would hear a small sound come out of my mouth – an actual “ohh” or “ahh”. They are so wonderful. I wish we had them at other times in the year. Checking that off the summer manifesto list.
I love fireworks. And I love July for all of its summer loving.
Wrote this very early this morning, up with a sick pup. It’s working out though, since I’m not very tired anyways.