Independence Day

It is July 3^rd.

I walk through my neighborhood in a white shirt and khaki shorts.

A light drizzle keeps me cool as the sun drops completely behind the horizon.

At the outset of my barefoot adventure,

I ponder the meaning of life.

These suburban houses bursting with young children.

Vigor!

But tonight, the rain has hushed the children’s shouts

And closed garage doors and car windows.

Tonight, it is so quiet that I hear cars coming long before they see me.

I step into the grass as confused headlights pass

What is he up to? Does he live here?

I cross the creek that divides our neighborhood

When I hear the first fireworks.

Far off, distant, covered by fog, but still

Present.

I see a few fireflies light themselves up and realize that they are

My fireworks this Independence Day.

I stop and listen to a mother bird perform

Her favorite rendition of the National Anthem.

This one says,

Thank You, Lord, for bringing my boy home safely.

Her voice cracks in the upper register, but

Still she sings her heartfelt song.

I applaud silently, not wishing her to know

I was eavesdropping.

I continue home and listen to the frogs and toads

Creating the sound effects for the fireflies

And I ponder my freedom.

Who can walk barefoot through their neighborhood

Without fear?

Not many; yet I am one of the privileged few.

I go inside my pleasant home and

Contemplate myself in the mirror.

I see myself.

My diamond-encrusted hair and eyelashes

My raindrop-spangled shirt and shorts

And I hope my reflection will make a difference in my world.

Happy birthday, America.

Here’s to many more.