Today I went to hear a bluegrass band in a small Tennessee town park that was lead by a man named Robert E Lee, who played a bit late after a botched American flag burning ceremony lead by a group of Legionnaires while it sprinkled rain, after a very long and exhausting kayak on the wide River with a fast current. Tonight I watched my favorite display of fireworks so far that I can recall, special because they were semi private, not a thousand people crammed together, but a few families along a river. The lights snapped crackled and popped over our heads and I thought of last year, alone at home, and what Jamey said to me while floating along Goat Island this morning, that from where we were two years ago, there was no way to get here from there.
Here from there.
And the miracle of a small town hot dog with a Korean War veteran, a shy little girl smiling on a pony ride, and a fantastic display of sparkling lights exploding in the sky above my head which rested on his shoulder like home.