On the fourth
last year
I watched the fireworks over Chateau Elan with my family
I watched a steam engine parade in Dawsonville that inexplicably is focused on the Confederacy.
I watched a couple hundred of my relatives get together for a mass potluck.
I watched my Grandpa slowly losing to cancer.
This year I'm in NYC
Camped out on the couch, feeling equal parts home-sick and sick-sick.
Home-sickness is confusing when you've tumbled as much as this little stone has.
In my fevery pityparty there are strings pulling my heart to the familiarity of family and small backwoods towns,
and also abroad to a big open apartment on a hill- ocean breezes and the sound of waves, and good friends always afoot.
Also, there's an odd vague home-sickness for the road. Where stagnant wandering shoes can shake of the dust and get life moving again on to the next step.
Today it's the fourth of July, 2010.
I'm watching a baseball game and tangoing with consciousness.
Looking just out my window I saw my Haccidic neighbors setting up an awning an table then I fell asleep.
Now I can watch them having a cookout that looks more like a see-who-can-grow-the-best-beard-competition.
Happy fourth
