My psychic bags are packed.
Come Monday Cooper and I and Zoe (who now needs help getting in the car) will head for the cabin. Following us on Tuesday will be all three babies and one partner.
We will have twenty four hours together.
The Fourth of July has been a Moose Lake thing for as long as I can remember. In years past we have attended the parade which features thrown candy and sewage trucks (they shine them up and festoon them but is there any disguising their function?). There are rides and mini doughnuts and chaos and heat and excitement. We have then adjourned to the sweetness of the lake and the cabin, there to welcome family for feasting and conversation.
This year I’m suspecting we will skip the parade and the rides in order to celebrate good coffee, quiet time and the amazing good that is gentle time together.
It isn’t the mini doughnuts and jazz of people that calls me. This year it is the whiz bang of being in a place that has long held us through family reorganizations (how is that for linguistically gentling the rip of divorce?) and leavings and comings.
To awaken there surrounded by the breaths of beloveds is heart fireworks.
Wherever it is you find yourself on this Fourth of July, whether in crowds or quiet, I pray you know well the sweetness of gratitude.
So much has been given in order for freedom and justice for all to be more than phraseology.
Much more will be asked in order for freedom and justice for all to be made real.
Hold to your beloveds.
Shine your gratitude.
Eat a mini-doughnut for me.