I love the Fourth of July. I love the barbecue and the watermelon and the patriotic decorations. I love how nobody is embarrassed to get dressed up in red, white and blue outfits with flags and stars and sparkles all around.
But most of all – I love the fireworks.
As Josh and I watched the fireworks last night, surrounded by kids yelling “OOHHHH!” every time a big one popped and crackled above us, I thought about what a great picture we made. Hundreds of people gathered close, sitting on blankets and lawn chairs, faces all pointed up and illuminated with flashes of light as we all faced the sky and smiled at the show.
After, a group of kids behind us were so ding dang excited about the fireworks that they started cheers of “1-2-3-FREEDOM!!” and “1-2-3-JUSTICE!!”
We followed the crowd back to our car, and as we zipped through the traffic and down the dark back roads toward home, I took stock of how happy I am. We are in a new city with new jobs, surrounded by family and old friends. We went from spending most of our nights at home to having to budget our time carefully. With each day, I feel more and more like the grown-up version of myself.
But it doesn’t take much – a fireworks show is plenty – and I’m back to the same wonder and excitement I always feel on the 4th of July. I’d say that’s a pretty wonderful thing.