Fireworks inside and out
The interesting thing about family is that you love them despite them. Take for example my own mother, just speaking to friends recently who are in the tormented years of being parents to teenagers, I realize my mother must have gone through hell with six teenagers coming up in our household. Pure hell. So the very fact that she stuck it out with us for all these years, means that we owe it to stick it out with her.
But despite our best intentions, life isn’t always so simple and easy going. Yesterday, when the kettle was about to start whistling, T and I headed out to get a beer, only even the decision of where to have it was as fragile and loaded as what preceded it, but once we started walking in a direction, the distance from the house opened up a new perspective for both of us.
We walked across the bayou to Nonna Mia and sat down in the misted courtyard with the bright colored umbrellas and right away, the waiters attended to us, they put the fans on high and created a nice little oasis in the midst of one of the hottest days of the summer – so hot it was causing everything to roil to a boil – and what transpired was a calming, a nice attitude adjustment.
By the end of the evening, when the fireworks were outside and no longer inside, and bright colored lights seemed so close you could touch them, our 4th of July turned out to be wonderful. The good old-fashioned American holiday with friends over, watching fireworks on the porch both near and far, and homemade apple pie replete with mini American flags to wave.
America, America, god shed his grace on thee…