Yesterday my head was a jumble. A mix of nerves and apathy, with a teeny bit of naive excitement thrown in just to keep me feeling extra crazy.
The last few weeks, in fact, have been filled with so much uncertainty, so many big changes (and that's not including the stuff causing us to flip back and forth between CNN and Fox News - "unbiased debate" my butt) that sometimes I just want to scream, "STOP!!! I need a break. A second to catch my breath."
Do you ever have days when you just want to check out of the madness that can be modern living?
Ever want to pull that ropey, lever thingy on the bus telling the driver in no uncertain terms to pull over?
Ever want to stop this train?
I used to think I'd someday run away to Mexico. And spend the remainder of my life sipping fruity drinks beachside.
But lately even that backup plan isn't looking so good. (Drug cartels. Pirates. Those were never part of my retirement plan.)
Not that America seems much better some times.
Smear ads all over tv. Leaders defaming someone's personal character, sometimes family, to try and prove a point.
Facebook bickering over entertainment choices and Oreos.
Internal struggles about chasing dreams or choosing practicality, practicality that absolutely must include six-figures and a two car garage... practicality sometimes labeled "The American Dream."
Too many late night episodes of Wife Swap. And House Hunters.
Last night I was feeling particularly low and overwhelmed while prepping to attend my hometown's Fourth of July festivities, on the third.
I didn't want to run into a million people I knew (Princeton's total population is about 6,000 FYI) . I didn't want to make small talk when all I could think about was all the stuff still up in the air, stuff likely to fall on my head at any given moment... quite possibly while having a mini reunion near the bouncy houses.
Where are you living? How are you doing? What are you up to?
Those seemingly simple questions were ones I wasn't prepared to handle. So I mostly kept my head low, perking up only halfway through the night when Dad suggested a hotdog run.
And with that my defenses weakened slightly.
Ironic that French's mustard would transport me to a simpler time in life. But it did.
And by the time the fireworks were starting my sister's puppy had completely melted what was left of the self preservation mentality I had arrived with.
Yes, when it came time to eat my Strawberry Daiquiri sno cone (with a glo straw), hand on my husband's shoulder... as I looked down at Teddy (the Corgi) who would take a jump back at the loud crack of each firework but then rush up to see them shine, I knew things were gonna be okay.
(Isn't it awesome how kids and pups are the ones that remind us big people what's important in life? Like snuggling. And taking in the world with wonder.)
Yes, even if Andy Griffith died. And even if my Facebook friends can't get along.
And even if I don't know where we'll be this time next year. Or if we'll have our own vehicle to drive by this time next month.
Things are gonna be okay.
There were hundreds of people surrounding us last night, as our little family watched fireworks shoot over the same ball fields where I survived one very miserable season of softball (after third grade).
And I knew at that moment we had friends and family all over the country doing the same thing...
Staring up into the night sky, waiting anxiously to see a little trail of glittering lights boom into a great big sight to see. Being whisked away from their worries and up into something special. Something captivating.
Something freeing.
Something grand.
'Cause while "The Star-Spangled Banner" played I didn't hear a single person talking about the economic crisis.
I didn't hear a word about healthcare reform. Or civil unions. Or November elections. Or "breaking reports."
I also didn't feel trapped in my own head thinking about smaller but just as aggravating stresses.
Instead, I heard an almost timeless song being accompanied by the most peaceful booms one can experience.
The crack of fireworks overhead, signaling a moment of sacrifice and patriotism. Peace and goodwill. Gratitude and glee. (At least until the battle in the parking lots began.)
Fleeting as they may be, those kind of big picture moments, I'll take them. I'll take any chance I get to recuperate.
To reunite as a nation.
To put aside our differences. And focus instead on what we share.
A land of freedom. A life of liberty. A pursuit of more moments like last night.
When everything seems a bit more clear.
Happy Fourth of July friends.
I hope you have a relaxing, rejuventating, refreshing kind of celebration.
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