July the Third


It was... typical. and worth it. and crazy. and predictable. and lovely. and rainy. and all together probably what I needed.
I'm a person or tradition. a creature of habit or what-have-you.
And so, traditionally, I would have driven down town with my family and struggled for a parking spot. We would have waded our way through the crowds to find some remotely viable view. In the process seeing people we hadn't seen in months or a year. Old friends, school mates, old colleagues. Then after mindlessly watching the vets and the bag pipers and the protesters and the nontraditional schools, and the politicians, the beauty queens, the Mountaineers, the Emergency services and the like. We would have ventured down the street and eaten everything.
Everything.
Samosa's. Fried Dough. Fresh Cotton Candy. The Best Lemonade in the World. and twenty thousand other calories I don't need.
So we would have gone home, and watched the fireworks from the porch. Lit some sparklers then climbed onto the couch with a huge bowl of fresh air-popped popcorn.
And it would have been like always. But with the surgery, and age, things changed.
In the end, I went with friends. and it was kind of awkward for a variety of reasons. But it was fun. It rained, but we ate anyways. It rained, but we drove to the Cremee Stand with loud music. It was awkward but we had fun. And even if it was different, it was nice, and maybe a new tradition?

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