It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year

Nothing says the 4th of July to me like a girl walking through a farmer's hay field in a sundress and flip flops to a small town parade where hoards of small children gorge on sugar and sunscreen. The smell of hairspray and world domination thick in the air as dancers, cheerleaders, and rodeo queens prance by in puffs of glitter. The crowd cheering perhaps loudest of all for the boy scout troop scooping piles of manure into giant buckets pulled by 4-wheelers following the horse brigade. This has been my day. And I wouldn't trade it for anything. The great thing is that this day is repeated in small towns throughout this vast vast country of ours.

I stopped by the grocery store we used to sneak to for donuts while ditching class in high school, this time to pick up some deli lunch-meats with my mom.

I've eater watermelon, sloppy joes, and so many cherries my fingers are stained red. I accepted half-eaten taffy bites from my nephews. I've laughed so hard my stomach hurt and my lungs spasmed.

I watched fireworks explode in the sky, hot dog on my plate, tears on my cheeks, as God Bless America played in the background.

I listened to Kenny, Brad, Zac, and Rodney. I watched The Sandlot, and I watched the beautiful flag wave in the hot summer breeze of my parents porch. I kept tabs on the Yankee game. (they won)

And I gave a silent prayer of thanks to be able to be here with my family. And for all those who have fought so hard and sacrificed so much in order for me to enjoy the day in celebration of freedom and independence.