Four years ago yesterday, Sparks and I were married. Five years ago today, the day after our third date, he showed up to my post-Independence-Day party with a cooler full of ice and helped set up. I’d suspected he was a keeper and that clinched it. We’ve been together ever since, never apart for more than a night.
After the fireworks and concessions excitement on the third, we threw a barbecue on the fourth. We grilled burgers and dogs, served pound cake with strawberries and whipped cream, and had a million tiny cans of silly nostalgic soft drinks (orange pop, grape pop, red pop). Friends brought side dishes and cobbler. Sparks got the kiddie pool warmed up with a bucket heater and the children got in and out of it all evening. We set off bottle rockets and sparklers, blew bubbles, and put together glow lanterns when night fell.
I have always wanted the fourth of July to be a big party. This year it has been simply perfect.
And now a long weekend of doing nothing much at all. Except getting in that heated kiddie pool.