Every year, I manage to find the heart and soul of the Fourth of July somehow.
I’ve spent my country’s birthday in all sorts of places, both in America and far away from her, and yet I’ve always finagled my way into spending some time doing something that helped me to remember why I love my country and freedom and the right to buy big sodas wherever and whenever the hell I want to buy big sodas.
This year, I spent the day with a couple of very cool friends and their sweet kids as well as my mom-in-law, who I actually love and dig a lot. We didn’t do much, to be honest. But I think that is what I’m really talking about. We had the seven foot inflatable pool hooked up in the yard. The kids were in heaven with that; there were no fights or shenanigans. We grilled up some burgers and dogs and ate them with pickles and potato salad and tomatoes and mozzarella and potato chips.
The kids ate a lot of red, white, and blue cookies.
We talked about things like politics and fishing and amusement parks and stuff our kids say to us when they climb up into our beds sometimes.
And as the day wound down and the hot, hot sky thinned out a little and began to go dim, we wrapped some final towels around the kid’s wet mops and held them in our arms and on our laps, their yawns marking the end of another perfectly executed Independence Day doing nothing much at all for a change.
Here’s a few shots from this morning, my kids all ready and excited for their holiday. I hope yours was just as great.
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