Independence Day

       Happy Independence Day to you, my friends.  Hope you've spent the day off of work (independent), and surrounded by loved ones, doing something you enjoy (happy).  My family and I went to the beach this morning, despite an insane downpour that threatened to thwart our plans, but had a nice sunny day in the ocean and playing in the sand.  We spent some time playing badmitten and ladder ball in the yard and having a cook-out, "just" the 5 of us, and now I sit in a quiet house, enjoying my independent time.  Time to reflect on Independence Day's past (no pun intended).
        Some of my earliest memories of the 4th of July are from my childhood in Jersey Shore, PA.  I remember there was always a huge carnival and parade, and then after dark, a fireworks display.  I remember laying on my back on our soft pink picnic/beach/fireworks blanket, my Dad and brothers next to me, seeing the fireworks in the dark sky, literally overhead; the smell in the air, the charred paper falling to the ground. 
        Some years later, after moving to Chippewa, PA, I went with my friend Missy to see the fireworks at Point State Park in downtown Pittsburgh - it was an amazing show, being right on the point of the three rivers with the fireworks all around.  There were boats in the water, the Fort Pitt Bridge to our backs, a wall of mountains rising on one side and skyscrapers lit up on the other side, and there was music playing from somewhere.  It was very impressive, especially being my first 4th of July since we'd moved near Pittsburgh.  The next year I would see fireworks across the bridge from Beaver Falls, with a guy I liked and another couple of our friends, having just graduated from high school, almost able to taste my new-found independence that I knew was just around the corner with college starting in the fall.
        Fast forward many years, after college, after I'd gotten married, I remember a particularly sad Independence Day.  It was 2003, and the weekend before the 4th, we'd been at a friends wedding in New Jersey.  I recall that I was walking on the beach, trying to make my weekly phone calls to family.  I spoke with my parents briefly, and also with my Great Uncle Ted.  Our calls always ended with me saying "I love you" and him saying "You, too, Jenny", but this time, he said "I love you" first; it struck me with a smile, but I didn't think more about it then.  We got back to Boston the next day and I went back to work on Monday.  My Mom called my cell phone in the middle of the day, which was highly unusual; she had some bad news.  My Uncle Ted had passed away overnight and my grandmother, his sister, had found him in the morning when he hadn't come by for breakfast on her side of the two-family home they both lived in.  He had been sick for a number of years and didn't have any children of his own; my brothers and sister and I had always been like his grandchildren; we were all so close, and it was quite a blow.  The next day was the 4th, and I was still upset and breaking down into tears often.  I remember sitting on the front steps of the condo we rented in Watertown, I could hear the Boston Pops music playing on the TV inside, echoing from other open windows on our block.  My husband came out to comfort me, but I just really missed my Uncle and wished our last conversation had been longer, and I couldn't stop crying.  At that second, there was a rumble in the sky that started low but got much louder and more powerful as it drew near - it was a jet fly-over, four military jets flying in formation, roaring directly overhead.  The jets were headed to do a fly-over over the Esplanade where the Independence Day celebration was going on, but I felt like it was a sign from my Uncle not to be sad anymore, that he loved me, as he told me the last time we talked, and that he was watching over me.  To this day, anytime I see a fly-over, it always makes me smile and think of my Uncle Ted.
          Nowadays, my July 4th celebrations are much more low-key.  The year I was pregnant with Quinn, I was nausious and bloated, so we went out for dinner but stayed home after that.  And last year, Doug took Quinn to a parade in town in the afternoon, but we were strict on the girls naps last summer, because they were still really fussy, and I needed the break, too.  Last night, Doug took Quinn to see the fireworks in Harvard, along with three bands and other festivities, and I was a bit jealous that he got to enjoy the eveing with our son.  But, I know that as the girls get older, we will all be able to partake in the celebration together. 
          One day, I imagine that I will lay on my back on a blanket again under a fireworks display, alongside my children, fireworks blazing overhead, making memories, just like I used to do when I was a child, way back when, growing up in Pennsylvania.