Independence Day

Independence Day

I spent last summer sitting quietly on your deck.  We discovered the secret that no one else was privy to.

That this was our place.

Our secret place where we could stare up at the sky without having to say a word.  No one could touch us, and the world’s hands couldn’t reach us.  It was magical out there in the quiet, under that giant north Georgia sky.

Hours and hours we sat there.  We spent entire vacations, that were merely canceled because, just sitting out there.  Talking.  Silent.  Looking up at the sky.  That space on your deck became our sanctuary.  Our place that nobody else knew about.  Our great, beautiful secret.

And we spent Independence Day out there.

All around us, the neighbors and parties celebrated us.  They lit their fires and explosions in exuberance for us.  The night came alive for us.

Because of us.

In celebration of us.

 

 

They celebrated because they knew we were there watching…waiting.  They celebrated for us.  For you.  For me.  But mostly they rejoiced because they somehow knew we were sitting out there and they were in the presence of greatness.

I’ll never forget the hours that night exploding and popping and booming.  Long after we had made love and fallen soundly asleep, they continued.  Because they knew.  They had somehow known we were there, sitting and watching.  And they were thankful.  

Just like I was thankful.

Some great mysterious riddle had been solved, and some planets had aligned…something had gone so very right in the universe.  They all sensed it.

Now this year the fourth of July comes and goes.  I’ll be somewhere and you’ll be somewhere.  You’ll be surrounded with polite people who were kind enough to wait their turn.  Ever so kindly.  You’ll be at a celebration.  And you’ll be “on”…and it’ll be fun.  And exciting.  And everyone there will wait in line to meet your beautiful face.

But you should know this: the party you’ll be at will be a party with you, not for you.  The celebration you are at…you will be attending.  The celebration won’t be in honor of the place you’re sitting, observing.  It won’t be in honor of the knot you’ve untied.  It won’t be in honor of the great riddle you’ve solved, the great mystery you’ve somehow unraveled, that beast you’ve tamed.

This year, we’ll both celebrate Independence Day more independent.

But less so.  

This day will come and go and be less.  It’ll be the 4^th of July.  And we’ll be more dependent on others than we have ever been.  But utterly independent in the most intimate and sacred way.

I’ll mourn for the loss of last summer’s dependence.  

6.29.2011