A story about the Fourth of July!

June is my month. The month I was born. The month I know of as the beginning of summer. A wonderland of green days and starry nights alive with the hum of the frogs.

June will always have my heart, but the beginning of July…

..there’s a little bit of small town magic in one particular day…

The Fourth of July.

From the child who waved from the Lawrenz’s Sausage Shop float in the annual parade, to the teen who swam at Cedar pond and roamed the streets with her friends, to the adult who cruised into town in her Jeep every year listening to Tom Petty’s “American Girl”… this holiday holds about as many precious memories for me as Christmas.

Every year I make my way back to the small town I grew up in. I try to arrive before the barricades for the parade are put in place. We get together- the whole family- and we relive those good times out on that hot summer street. We watch the parade, we cook out and go swimming and wait for the sun to go down to see the fireworks. They might not always be the grandest of fireworks, but they’re ours. And the most important part is that we get to watch them together.

And here’s the thing about it- the thing about holding onto a tradition that could so easily be let go- it’s watching it mean something to the next generation. It’s watching your niece, your daughter and their friends ride off down the street on bicycles.

It’s watching them laugh as they gather candy from the parade.

It’s realizing that when they’re in their 40’s looking back they will also have these memories of the Fourth of July with family. And in keeping some of these most simple days sacred- free and untouched from the burdens of everyday life- you have given them a piece of the childhood you were so lucky to have. The childhood we often fear these kids will never experience the same way we did.

We ended the night on a hillside outside of town, positioned to see the fireworks. As they began loud and bright, snapping in the dark sky, I stood next to my niece.

“This is the best part,” she said, “I love the Fourth of July.”

I wrapped my arm around her shoulder, still in awe that this girl is almost grown up now and taller than me. I can still remember her when-

“Promise me something,” I said. “When you’re my age and I’m…older…don’t let me miss this. Come to my house and pick me up. Make me come out and watch the fireworks with you even if I say I’m too tired.”

She chuckled, not knowing how serious I really was and replied- “Okay. I mean, I’m always going to want to do this. The Fourth of July is my favorite day.”

I replied- “I’m glad. It’s my favorite too,” before a boom and a crackle from the fireworks interrupted the moment.

I squeezed my niece’s shoulder and took a deep breath of the cooler air that the evening downpour had brought in with it.

“Oh Clair,” I sighed, “Enjoy it. The time goes so fast.”