Busy Nothings: Independence Day

When I was younger, my favorite holiday was by far Christmas. All those presents were truly a thing of joy that caused painfully pleasant anticipation. These days however, Christmas is on the back burner for me. I love the winter weather, but I guess it's hard to get excited or anxious when you are single. Christmas, and wintertime in general, is a time of thanksgiving and solemn inner contemplation. It is the calm before the rebirth of Spring. But, I digress.

Now I would say one of my favorite holidays is the 4th of July. I love the decoration mostly. Up my walkway I have mini American flags sticking up out of the ground. I place them in my yard for Memorial Day and take them back in after the 4th. Somehow, the yard just seems empty without them. As a kid I remember going to watch the fireworks downtown, but after we got older our 4th of Julys were spent poolside at the C's. If you're not from Texas, you may be tempted to think that everyone who lives in a very hot climate has a pool. However, I can assure you this is not the case. I know no one on my street who has a pool. If you do have a pool, you become an extremely popular person during the summer months, confirmed by the lack of residents at home on my street today as I fled to my own friend's pool. Once poolside, we all lounge about in the water, the babies splash around in their excitement, and the sun shines down on you relentlessly from a perfectly clear blue sky. Barbecue is normally the lunch of choice, and Mom always brings some wonderful homemade desserts (this year it was whoopie pies).

If you asked me why I like the 4th of July so much, I'd probably tell you it's because I am passionately American. I haven't been so all my life. Before I moved to Italy, I didn't think much more about being American than I did about being Methodist. I was born into it, and that's what I was. But, after moving to Italy and truly living a life in another country, I understood how lucky I had been all along. When I crossed the border to return home I remember the agent telling me, "Welcome back to the United States" in a polite, but automatic way. I almost cried right then and there. You can never truly understand the idea of 'home' until you leave it in a permanent way. Some people are traveling souls, at home wherever a roof is over their head. I am not that person. I love my country. I love my state. I love my hometown. I am proud to be an American; proud to support this country, every minute of every day. So, Happy Independence Day. It's a great day to be an American.