They canceled our July 4th this year.

Pandemic, and all.

Thank the Gods!

Our dog doesn't even realize how happy she'll be that maybe - for once - the neighbors won't keep her up all night shaking in a corner with her comfort plushy as they set off their damn firecrackers, smoke bombs and rockets.

And I'm not feeling particularly patriotic about living in a country that still can't provide its denizens basic healthcare, equal access to quality and continuing education, affordable housing, or easy voting access. Maybe we gained our independence, but we sure as shit haven't done too well with it lately.

They canceled our July 4th this year.

Maybe because America needs to go figure itself out for at least another four years.....

This fourth of July is going to be a disaster! My birth dad who is a narcissist alcoholic is getting married. The woman he is marring is a condescending freak! My dad didn't even ask us if we would want them to get married. He is also older than her dad! The only reason I like to go to my birth dad's house is for the food and the electronics but know his freakish girlfriend changed and know all there is to eat its fruit.

WORST FOURTH OF JULY EVER

You can't celebrate if you don't understand the mistakes and the places that need growth. How do you commemorate a history you don't learn? How do you have pride in what you don't know?

There is significance in the mistakes and the flaws, and it's with pride that I reflect on them and how they're never truly been resolved. There's not much to celebrate when the foundations and principles you symbolically 'uphold' aren't there for everyone. How do you cherry-pick equality and the other 38 something ideals your uncles and fathers 'fought for'

Will I shit on the system because it doesn't work while actively existing within it?

If I answer no, then I don't really take the day off to observe.

I had a dream…

The three year-old me squatting down among her pals in a pile of sand pit, juggling sand, dirt, little pebbles that would take a pair of insightful innocent hearts to

decipher the most hidden codes written beneath ordinary nature’s facades;

“Who’s orange peel is that?”

A pudgy finger pointed at a wrinkly dry-piece of orangey thingy,

by my “future” feet..

“Oh, that’s my Garrison Cap. Tomorrow is my last day in the Naval Base Hospital,

you guys are all welcomed to my departure ceremony.”

Dusting off the golden uniform, putting on that folded military cap…

Despite my dark blue T-shirt inside, not

uniform-code coordinated with my golden peanut-butter dress…

I am all set, smart-looking and sun-shinny,

like a smiley proud sun-flower ready for a last uniform-inspection.

But for now, let’s just focus on the work in the hands, of

three year old us,

constructing our magnificent sand-castle,

baby-sitting a fluffy white Llama—

such a gifted tidy nifty sharp-shooter, leaving no mess behind,

squirting out straight lines of pee, or spit..

aiming only at that far-reaching drainage pipe hole; and

an amazing talented painter,

farting out trail of rainbow bridge,

lightening the evening sky with rounds of applause,

sparkling glitter, bubbles, and dreamy fire-works.