Sunday, July 7, 2013

Back to the thing

I realized this weekend that I may have been neglecting a few people that actually do, on occasion, click their way over to this part of the world, and for that I'm sorry. I haven't carved out a lot of time as of late for telling the story. I'm busy on the side of "doing something worthy of writing about" (at least I hope...time will tell), and not keeping up with the daily "Doogie Howser", as one long lost friend of mine likes to label this blog. 

Well, I will be changing that. Ill be trying to add pictures but also take enough time out of the day to string together what I believe will be palatable and hope to be articulate if not also witty clusters of words that share with you just how far along the "evolution" has come...

The 4th of July weekend began with my favorite summertime activity: floating the river I have lived the majority of my life on with the people I love the most in the world. Merrily we floated and took some time to relax and laugh. 

On Friday I got to take another half-day and swing the proverbial sticks for the first time all year. Ligon and Cashill are always worth getting up at 5am for. The best company I could hope to have, and the ones that have been with me the longest. I was filled with gratitude to have such a great morning. 

The highlight if the weekend, however, was when for the first time in 5 years I got to attend the annual fireworks show at the Graeagle Mill Pond, WITH my kiddos. Also in attendance were Marissa and Chet, Anna, Dick and Sharon, and a beautifully irreverent band of American scenesters and nostalgists all looking for a little piece of this light and explosion filled dream that we share. And for the first time in as many circles around the sun I was delighted, amazed and taken back to my own childhood sense of awe as huge colorful bursts of fire ignited far too close to my eyes and the earth below to be within what I assume are the safety code regulations of our time...it was perfect. As time goes on I plan on hanging tightly to these things that I love, cherishing the parts they all played in making my childhood so ideal, and my growth so tempered by the love and support which has allowed my own children to have something to believe in as well. 

I have been called an All American before. It has never upset me. 

Graciously hosting us in the little village in the woods was the always pleasant family I'm proud to call a part of mine, the Cashills. Pat, Johnna, Charlotte, McKenzie, Kate, Ryan and my dear, old, loyal, cherished friend John: thank you for bringing me back to the place I got to know you all. This journey would be such a bore without the very special colors you consistently reflect upon my path. 

Happy Fourth!







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