Rainy days and holidays …

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The rain … on the plain … leads cruelly to pain … (think Bob Dylan) … but I’m fatally attracted, I’ll never not love rain.  We’ve had buckets of it this spring and summer and our rivers are flowing full and beyond.  The trees are glorious!  Everything’s green and blooming and couldn’t feel more conducive to smiling and laughing and cavorting outside and taking naps.  What is it about an accidental, or entirely on purpose, nap on a soft sunny day that tells us we’ve been kind to ourselves and it’s more than okay?

Yesterday was full of family, food, and fireworks.  Oh, yours too?  And did you have the feeling all day that you could easily nod off and not miss a thing because it would all go right on swirling around you and soaking into your DNA for yet another year?  Yeah, works every time.  All that rain did its thing and produced a perfect day here — blue skies, quiet beauty, and peace, other than the astounding amount of ordnance being detonated all around us especially after dark.  Like true American warriors, we assimilated the audio into our psyches and marched on … through a mountain of burgers and brats, potato salad, baked beans, pasta salad, deviled eggs, guac & chips, an array of cold liquids, and homemade Butterfinger ice cream.  (Not a complete list.)

Little girls lighting pastel-colored smoke bombs with Papa, sets of sisters in three generations being goofy together, bros bro-ing, beer chilling before swilling, everything easy-going and sweet-feeling.  Turns out the America we grew up in … and were pretty sure we remembered … still exists and is way worth saving.  The friends who friend us, the family who love us, the times spent just being together, are still the real stuff, and there are days when you know you’d lay down your life for it.

Happy July 4th, America.  Thank you for your patience and long-suffering while we try to solve the puzzle of being human.  You’re a Good Girl.

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