4th of July

Last year: Fried chicken with Peru SIP.

This year: Barbecue chicken with Mom (special recipe), sister, and sister’s 16-year-old friends in the backyard. At night, biking for backyard fireworks, then driving down Rt. 287 with fireworks on my left and my right, and then standing in the middle of Piscataway’s Hispanic population watching the township’s fireworks from the side of the road.

This year: Sister sleeping like a log, Mom too tired to go out. Feeling guilty telling my father to forget about driving around.

Right around 9 when the crackers started going off, I realized I really, really needed to see fireworks this year. I’ve never had to wait for anything, or look for anything–if I want to travel I pay money and I go, and if I want a new camera I buy it, and if I want a song I youtube it or download it. Fast access, instant gratification. You can even put a price on sunlight —  jetting to Puerto Rico is like paying for good weather. But fireworks are free, and you can never get it except one day of the year, and if you miss that half hour time frame when they’re being displayed, then you’re going to have to wait another year. Even if I’m standing on a busy road getting funny looks, where the cars drown out the popping and a telephone pole partially obscures the view, I’m just very glad I got there in time for the finale.