I had high hopes for a deeply symbolic Independence Day. There are so many little oppressions in my life, and I long for freedom. Freedom from bad habits and annoying situations. Freedom from my neverending home rebuild (now 10 months behind schedule; I've stopped calling it a renovation). Freedom from stubborn baby pounds (and a couple pre-baby pounds). Freedom from diapers (I'm lookin' at you, Princess H).
But, at the end of a glorious weekend filled with art, old friends, silly fun, music, fireworks, family, heated conversations with my contractor, good food, and, yes, tons of dirty diapers, I am filled with nothing but profound gratitude. Why would any passionate patriot (like myself) want to crowd a day like this? It doesn't need to be one bit more meaningful than it already is. I love this country! I am so grateful for the real freedoms it affords, and for those who fight to protect them. I am grateful for the refuge this place provided to our grandparents, and for the American Dream they built. I am grateful for a beautiful night, sleeping babies, and a long talk with the man I love on Momo's roof, watching a panorama of (mostly legal) fireworks without a care in the world. And I am grateful for the fifth of July -- when I can get back to work on those other things....
