Did I mention . . .

that we had a fantastic fourth of July.
Daniel liked to see the bright colors flung all over the sky. He would squeal with delight every time.
He did not, however, like to hear them.
He liked them best if he was indoors -- or in cars, watching from a window.
My favorite part?
He called them "crackerfires."
'Mom. We see crackerfires?" His little face tilted to mine, nose crinkled into a question mark.
Kids make everything so much more wonderous.
This year, we almost didn't have a city fireworks display. The economic belt is tightening all over it seems, and fireworks just weren't in the budget. A local bank donated funds, though, and it was on with the show.
It lacked a little boom, I thought, though that may have been because of where we were watching them.
I will say, however, that the finale was perhaps the best I have ever seen!
There is nothing like the Fourth of July, with it's red white and blue, flags flying from front porches, people gathering together around good food and each other, patriotic songs playing on the radio, waiting for the dark to fall and the sky to explode with the crack and sizzle of color, sleeping boys carried home on a ribbon of smoke while the town snaps, crackles and pops well into the night.
This year, there is so much I am uncertain of. So much I shake my head at and sigh over and wonder about.
But sitting there, under the blooming sky, listening to the people all around me -- parked along the edges of the road, sitting on the hoods of their cars, ooohing and ahhhing, all of us looking up-- I swell with emotion and a pride of sorts and from deep within me comes a prayer. God, bless America.