Huzzah!

My big crape myrtles have yet to bloom. Strange. The peaches on the peach tree are tiny. Stranger still. A spring and summer of no water? Or perhaps the trees are old. Hard to tell. After all there are cycles to these things. At some point everything stops bearing fruit, bearing children, replenishing the world. It just happens. It is odd, however, to see the big crape myrtles without flowers. Usually, by the fourth they’re popping off all over the place.

As for me and the fourth, I’m going to celebrate the holiday by hanging with friends and listening to music. Sounds most pleasant. I put in a practice round yesterday. It went well. I suspect today will be equally fine, just with more people. Sometimes, I find that a bit off putting. Crowds. But I have coping mechanisms. Mostly sitting still and letting the swirl, swirl and move around me. I joked with a friend yesterday that I would simply disappear. Actually, not far from the truth. I shrink down inside myself. No sense adding to the noise.

It should be a good day, and I think I’ll even be home in time to stand on my porch and watch the city shoot off it’s fireworks in the park down by the river. Then I can go to bed. Luckily, although I live within the city, I am far enough away from civilization that random goobers shooting off fireworks should be of little concern. It will just me and the house and cats as the Republic ends another day celebrating the declaration of its independence. Huzzah!!

John W. Wilson is the author of The Long Goodbye: A Caregiver's Tale