Midyear Musings on the 4th of July

Today is July 4th. I have been here now for six months. It feels like I am so far from everyone I care about. I call my friends, but I miss being able to visit them, go out to dinner or a walk. We had enormous lightning and thunderstorms yesterday. It reminded me of when we lived in Connecticut. So loud, but my son would sleep through it all. Apparently these storms are very unusual for us here.

I feel time ticking. I am at an age when the years ahead are no longer unlimited. I am working out every day now, conscious that my health is going to be very important to my quality of life in the future.

I scan the listings for homes near my daughter and grandkids, impatient for the day when I will be near them and a part of their everyday lives. I want to be able to help out, have the kids over for a sleepover with Grandma, teach them art, teach them life. I am exquisitely aware of how quickly they will grow up. I want to scream "Stay 5 years old!" but even as I think this, I know that the next time I see them, they will already have changed from the pictures I keep with me.

A few years ago I spent the 4th of July with my brother and my sister (really my sister-in-law but we were sisters in our hearts). She had not yet found out that she had a rare form of cancer. We sat outside that evening and across the yard, in the dark, a neighbor began to set off some fireworks. Really kind of nice ones. So my brother went inside and put on some patriotic music to accompany the display and we sat there in the dark, watching the fireworks, listening to the music, drinking wine. I cried silently, aware that this moment would never come again. My beautiful sister died 27 months later and I miss her every day.