The A La Carte

For the last few years, I was the Fourth of July party host.

My house overlooked the biggest fireworks show in town, so everyone came to us. If there’s one thing my mom knows how to do, it’s host a party. She always had everything organized, the food ready, and people gathered together. It became one of those traditions you just assume will keep happening.

This year was different.

I live with my sister now in Puyallup, in one of those neighborhoods where it feels like every other driveway has a barbecue and someone is setting off fireworks before the sun even goes down. I wasn’t really sure what to expect.

For the last 12 years, though, the Fourth of July wasn’t just about fireworks or parties. It was about Buck.

Every Independence Day, I spent the evening worrying about my little guy. Fireworks were never his favorite thing, and every loud boom meant checking on him, comforting him, and hoping the night would pass quickly.

This year, for the first time, I didn’t have to worry.

Instead, I found myself smiling at the thought that wherever Buck is now, I’m pretty sure he got to watch fireworks where it was peaceful and quiet. Probably running around with his friends, completely unbothered.

Meanwhile, Joanie, the dog living with us now, is deaf.

She couldn’t have cared less.

My day started simply enough. My sister and I ran a few errands before I headed over to the lake to spend some time with my best friend and her family while they had a barbecue. It was one of those perfect Pacific Northwest summer days that reminds you why people put up with nine months of gray skies.

Then two of the most stereotypically American things happened.

Driving up with the windows down and the music turned up, Ray Charles’ America the Beautiful came on.

And somehow… I got a little choked up.

If you know me, you know I am not much of a crier. But something about the sunshine, the open road, and that song just hit me. It felt like one of those movie moments where everything lines up for about three minutes.

Then, while we were sitting by the lake, I looked up.

A bald eagle.

Then another one.

Honestly, what is more American than sitting at a Fourth of July barbecue while bald eagles soar overhead?

The rest of the afternoon was exactly what I needed. Catching up with one of my favorite families and getting to love on their dog, who just happens to be Buck’s sibling, filled a little piece of my heart I didn’t realize had been empty.

When I got home, my sister and I waited for darkness to settle in.

Since Joanie wasn’t bothered by the fireworks, we decided to do something we never could have done with Buck.

We grabbed our flashlights, put on our 79-cent 3D glasses from WinCo, and headed out to wander the neighborhood in search of the loudest booms and brightest explosions.

It was absolute chaos.

The neighborhood looked like a war zone in the best possible way.

We laughed our way down sidewalks, wandered through a wooded path while convincing ourselves some wild animal was lurking ahead, only to discover our terrifying predator was… a pole.

We met neighbors.

We found rogue Pop-Its lying in the street.

We gave ourselves whiplash trying to figure out which direction the next firework was exploding.

Eventually, there were so many fireworks going off around us that we just laid down on the sidewalk with our ridiculous 3D glasses and looked up.

Here’s the thing.

You can have the best time doing absolutely nothing when you’re with your best friend.

No expensive plans.

No perfect itinerary.

Just wandering around laughing until your stomach hurts.

Grief has a funny way of making you think joy has to wait.

That you’ll feel guilty if you laugh too hard.

That moving forward somehow means leaving someone behind.

But sometimes healing doesn’t arrive with some profound realization.

Sometimes it shows up wearing cheap cardboard glasses from WinCo.

Sometimes it looks like laying on a sidewalk while fireworks explode in every direction.

Sometimes it’s realizing you spent an entire evening laughing.

And sometimes, that’s exactly what your heart needed.