This year I watched the fireworks display sitting on a lawn chair behind Anna's house, eating homemade ice cream and watching the bald eagles disturbed by all the lights soaring out over the lake. It felt sort of like being in a sixties TV show-- I kept expecting Andy Griffith to walk by or something. It's almost 11:30 in the evening now, and I can still hear the whistling, crackling, and popping outside. Someone has a radio turned to patriotic music. The air is hazy and smells like gunpowder and ash.
While we're here celebrating, over in Afghanistan today was just another day of hard work for my husband and those serving with him. Though I wish he was here with me, I understand why he does the job he does and I'm so proud of him. He and his fellow soldiers work tirelessly without complaint, far from their families and under terrible and perilous conditions, in the service of those celebrating the holiday safely here at home.
Thanks, soldiers-- for all that you do.
The photo for this blog post was taken by the lovely Lucie over at LZH photography.