4th of July

I have to admit something: I'm never quite sure what to do with the 4th of July. I mean, yes, of course, we bbq, we hang out with family, we watch fireworks, but I have hard time feeling connected to this holiday.

When I've spent the 4th of July elsewhere (read: in another country), I know exactly what to do: I assume all things American, things we don't get to experience all the time. But when I'm here, I feel lost. I'm stunned that my husband knows the names of different kinds of fireworks (whereas I just call them things like "the big white ones that glitter and twinkle in the sky" or "fizzlers, k'now the ones that go up i the sky, but not very high, and then they fizzle.") He talks about setting fireworks off when he was a kid - and by setting off fireworks, I do mean that. Not just lighting sparklers. And I remember going on base and watching the fireworks from the base football field, in the bleachers. It's odd, but on such an American holiday, I've always felt more American when outside this country.

This year, we continued a tradition started a few years ago, bbq-ing at a friends house, indulging in good conversation and playing the backyard. It was just the right speed for Nate. When the time came for the pre-fireworks show (fireworks set off in the back yard), Nate watched a few but then decided fireworks aren't for him, and he made a bee-line for the front door, and so he and I stayed inside and snuggled.

This holiday has always meant being together with family, though. And this year was no different: we spent the day with Greg's parents and family friends, and some friend-family, too. And that part was familiar, and it felt good.