Independents Day

My family celebrated the 200th anniversary of American Independence doing what we loved most - camping on St. George Island, Florida. Thirty-five years later I spent the day home with Sam while Sara had a full day of work in Greensboro. We tried to figure out why our new cheap pool won't hold water and built three forts throughout the house, but keeping busy didn't keep me from feeling sorry for myself. In fact, I could have been crowned Queen of the Fourth of July Pity Party Parade. Holidays remind of how lonely I am....or think I am. I am usually a positive person, but celebration days sometimes get me down. See, I always wanted a great big happy family full of grandparents and parents and a heap of siblings....like the Waltons that I used to watch on television. And now that I am studying the family history and discovering that some of my great-greats had 10 or even 18 children I almost feel like a failure.

I remember when I was younger mama used to pile us into the car and we would go celebrate with folks at big gatherings like Aunt Laura's 100th birthday or the Kyles' 50th wedding anniversary. And there would be lots of folks there that we would only see at such events. My mom's parents are gone now and since she and dad divorced when Pat and I were really young we didn't really get to spend much time with his side of family. So it is pretty much just us now. And considering his business and other commitments it is amazing we see each other as often as we do.

So I started this day in a big old self-pitying funk. How awful. The rest of the country was celebrating its independence with family-filled cook-outs and beach trips and all sorts of other fantastic family happenings I thought of that were anything but the solitary misery I was in. I was almost dreading going back to Greensboro to get Sara and see the fireworks from my friend's yard. But I did it, with a fat black rain cloud following the whole way.

When I arrived at my friend's house, I got a phone call from another friend who was in worse shape than I was. Having spent the whole day at a cook-out with his large family he was fit to be tied. The arguing, the yelling, the finger-pointing. What a horrible holiday. He wished he had just stayed home. Another friend soon texted me that she was threatening to pack up her kids and leave her family's holiday vacation. She just couldn't take the family drama another minute. I said a silent prayer of apology for my self-pity. I had been reminded to be careful what I wished for. As much as I think I want a huge family, I also know it can be a double-edged sword. More cooks in the kitchen. More flies on the wall.

When I got off the phone, my daughter was helping move horses to pasture away from the fireworks so Sam and I pitched in and got ready to feed up. As soon as he and Sara rode off with the buckets the bottom fell out. I was stuck in the barn while a fairly heavy rain fell. The steady hum of the rain on the tin barn and the mist blowing in through the stalls was refreshing and I just stood there and absorbed it. About that time Sara dropped Sam off and the fireworks began despite the weather. Sam took off to dance in the field and I watched him from the barn as he jumped for joy with each colorful explosion. He was having the time of his life in that downpour. At that moment I realized again that I am always right where I am supposed to be. This evening my daughter was forced to face her weather anxiety head-on and was so proud of herself and my son had a fireworks experience I know he will never forget. And I got to watch it all, uninterrupted. No one asking for condiments, no one gossiping about another, no one complaining. Just me and my kids...our little family.