Fourth of July

Tonight is the 4th of July. You are four years old. Last night we were snuggling in bed and the fireworks started. We left the baby sleeping next to your dad and ran out to the abandoned street. You in a diaper and no shoes and me barefoot and in my nightgown. We stood out there on hot pavement still burning our bare feet after so much sunshine and gravel. But we didn't notice our feet for sometime. All we noticed was the colors exploding in the air; looking like sea urchins on fire. Kaboom. It was a special surprise. A Fourth of July treat for just the two of us a day early. You asked me questions which led us to learn about luminescence and incandescence and nitrate and aluminum. You thanked me for reading to you about the Revolutionary War. You blinked up at me against a backdrop of black sky and fireworks and said, "Happy American Birthday!" Now you are on top of a mountain somewhere with your daddy watching firecrackers break the valley sky. I hear them thundering as I lay here next to your baby sister sleeping. And no matter if it was only the third of July, that firework display in the middle of the sleeping road with our hands clasped together was the best Fourth of July I have ever known. Beside you always little girl. I love you. Happy American Birthday!