Fourth

The Fourth of July was hard. These holidays either cause me great anxiety before the day and then are a non-event, or smack me flat from behind. The Fourth of July smacked me good.

I have many good memories of Colby on July Fourth. When Colby was three he and my Mom did the polka for hours before and during the fireworks. They had a wonderful time.

There was the year Colby was about six, when the 4th fell on a Sunday. Tennessee celebrated the Fourth that year on the third and Colby participated with his t-ball team in a parade and then won the t-ball all star championship. Then we flew to Minnesota and celebrated again the next day. By the fifth, we were really tired!

When Colby was about ten, we took our dog, Sundance, to a Fourth of July parade in Minnesota and laughed for years at the face Sundance made when the bagpipes came by. Poor Sundance, that was one of the few life experiences he had that he did not fully enjoy.

Then there were many really hot Fourths that we spent in the lake at my mom's, the years we had picnics, or went to a Twins baseball game, or went to a movie. Now it is so hard to deal with the fact that those years are gone. They are in my past, our past. I will never again share the Fourth or July, or any other holiday with my son. Life has turned into a really, really bad dream. But it is a dream I must live with and learn to make the best of. And, somehow, I will.

This year Mom and I went to the horse races and visited with her friends. Then, later, I sat on the dock with my dog, Abby, and watched as more than a dozen people set off fireworks across the lake. It was a nice time, but I so wished Colby was there to share it.