There is one Fourth of July I remember better than others, I was 17 and the air was thick and warm even in the dead of night. Summer air, the best kind. He picked me up in his white pickup truck, cooler packed and chairs for two. We drove down to the baseball diamond, not to catch the game, but to score the free fireworks display outside of the stadium.
The city was crowded that night, we drove for what seemed like forever to find a place to park. Our chairs in tow we climbed over fences and walked down almost creepy alleys until we found a piece of sidewalk with just enough space. It should have been annoying, carrying a chair, walking a mile in my cute shoes. None of that mattered, wherever he was, was exactly where I wanted to be.
By the time we sat down, the fireworks had already begun. Our journey was long, but the show was short, still it felt magical. We sat hand in hand, not uttering a word, only speaking through shy smiles and eyes that sparkled as bright as the fireworks that lit up the sky. With that our love story began .
The first Fourth of July my husband and I spent together, one I will never forget.
Happy Independence Day everyone!
Collaborative Photo Creds to Miss Geraldine Bywaters.
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