A day to celebrate our freedom.
And to lavish the day with reds, whites, and blues.
To come together, with family and friends, spending the day relaxing, chatting, and eating.
A tradition our family has always embraced, year after year. Rudy at the helm, taking charge, making sure the constant rhythm of music was vibrating throughout, adding to the festive environment, enhancing energy, and conversations. He especially made sure bellies were full with good home-cooked food, and plenty of drink.
Today, on this 4th of July, our family is missing that tradition.
And it feels ironic.
I did chat, eat, and drink with Roberto, and laughed loudly as he ran around the pool waving the American flag, before he had to head off to his afternoon shift in a non-American restaurant. Brad spent the night with a friend, then made plans to celebrate with that friend for the day. And Liz is socializing, kicking back in London, preparing for her long flight home.
So, here I sit. Independently. In California.
And there Rudy sits. Independently. In Arkansas.
Each of us doing our own thing.
I am reading, writing, and lazily watching TV.
While he makes himself a meal, and lounges on the couch, entertained by sports.
A day to be independent.
To lavish the day with self.
To be alone.
To gather one's thoughts.
A day we will make the most of, in our own way. No one is taking charge. For Rudy, most likely, music is bouncing off the walls. Festively. But not for me. It's quiet here. Nicely so.
Today, each of us has had to find our own way to celebrate.
Find our own way to have a good time.
As the afternoon lazily passes into the evening.
Fireworks shout skyward.
Celebrating our county's independence.
Independence of being free.
And, independence of truly being independent.