Laughter rebounded in the cool night air.  Fiery strands of color from small fountains and other small fireworks illuminated the night, one by one, as several boys played happily on the concrete pad and in the alley behind a big red house.  Fireflies added their counterpoint, blinking their lights slowly as they drifted in the breeze around us and under the big arching trees.  All around us, over the treetops, larger fireworks exploded high up in the air.

Independence Day in our alley usually works out to a free-flowing, spontaneous movement of parents and children from driveway to alley, from house to house, and even the street for the young men and the young-at-heart.  Several neighbors offer chairs, beverages, even food, to feed their brood and the neighbor who wanders in.  Several talk about heading over the big fireworks production at the lake, but most just settle comfortably in a chair.

Most of the time we’re busy leading our structured lives, taking care of business, waving to the neighbors as we go by.  Here, we do stop to chat at least once a week when the weather is good (I feel a bit like a bear coming out of hibernation when the cold temperatures ease), but Independence Day is something special in our little block of this neighborhood.

I like it that way.