Yesterday I went to a friend’s house for a backyard cookout and 4th of July celebration. A family affair, there were kids, cold drinks, face painting, and fireworks.
Lots and lots of fireworks. It seems the neighborhood where my friends live, and the neighborhoods around them, all get into fireworks in a major way. The “show” started around dusk and last for two hours. Some of the shells were near commercial quality for height and burst. It was the most impressive fireworks display I have ever seen.
I’ve always loved fireworks displays and consequently thoroughly enjoyed myself. At the same time I was aware that fireworks were not Michele’s thing, and that, had she been there, we most likely would have left earlier. I am trying to be careful not to overly romanticize the history of our relationship nor to denigrate it. Finding the line of honesty that threads its way through my memories is not easy. But there are some occasions, like yesterday’s party, where I am acutely aware that, without her by my side, I had the freedom to do more of what I wanted rather than compromise and do some of what she wanted as well.