Glorious 4th

Once more we celebrate the 4th of July.

The day was sunny, breezy, and cool! So unusual for this time of year. We decided to ride bikes on one of the many trails that follow the creeks and rivers in our area. We've waited for this day for a long time, a day when the girls became competent bike riders and won't endanger themselves or others while they are riding. The first part of the trail took us through a park filled with memories. In my mind I see my little boys and me making crafts on that table there and shooting arrows at targets near that grove of trees. We attended a Cub Scout day camp here many years ago. Who would have guessed then that my daughter would celebrate her Happy Adoption Day party here so far into the future. Arielle has an excellent memory and said to me as we rode by, "I was here with Jon!" That was what she remembered of that day, being here with her big brother who carried her in his arms to see some African dancers who were performing.

We cross the park, the path slicing through fields of tall orange and yellow wildflowers. Lots of people are here today but they are quiet and we hear little conversation. The only sounds are the birds and the whirring of bicycles as they zip by us. Occasionally small animals make crackly noises as they rustle in the brush. The waterway comes in and out of view. I'm having trouble keeping on the path because I am overwhelmed with the beauty of the scenery and I want to see it all. I almost fall off my bike when a tiny bright goldfinch flies right in front of me. We ride through a goose crossing and stop for a picture.

It's a strange feeling to be following a river instead of a road. We know approximately where we are but we try to reconcile these sights with the maps in our heads. We see glimpses of the river between the trees of the thick woods and I was amazed to see the confluence of our small creek with the much larger river.

My hot pink boardwalk cruiser serves me well. I've written before about this bike so perfect it's like it was built just for me. No handbreaks, no speeds, it's big and wide and sturdy and its flashy pink color certainly stands out in a crowd. Some wise guy on the trail smirked, "Nice bike" as he rode by. But I don't care. I feel like I could ride forever on my bike and never get tired.

This was so much fun we decide to do it all again the next day! This time we ride about ten miles into a national park. We had to travel through hot sun parallel to the highway for a short piece but it was well worth it when we entered the shady forest, cool and dark, where the trees interlace their branches across the path making a canopy for us to pass under. The girls ride well and I am delighted we've found the perfect family outing.

In the evening of the 4th, a good friend and her daughters come over for dinner and later we go the the local park to see the fireworks. It seems the whole town is there, blankets spread out across the grassy fields. My friend bought the girls glow sticks that they make into necklaces and halos while we wait for darkness to descend. Before it comes, God provides a spectacular sunset, orange and blue stripes that melt to fiery red. No man-made sky show can top that. I forgot to bring my camera!

A band plays music from the 70's, the musicians in pastel suits with their synchronized moves bring back memories. My friend and I are tempted to get up and do a little disco but the girls were horrified enough that we would even sing along with the music, much less dance. The band concludes with the Star-Spangled Banner and we all rise and sing out into the night.

The fireworks are the same as always, colorful bursts of fire that built to a finale that lights up the heavens. But the sameness is what makes this night special. Once more, we are together with friends. Once more my neck hurts from looking up and once more a small daughter is nestled in my lap. Once more we walk back down the dark path to find our cars with hundreds of our neighbors right alongside of us, parents holding tight to little hands. I'm thankful for all the "once mores." I'm thankful for this glorious weekend.