July Fourth

I remember the first July fourth after I started have chronic pain. Like every other day for that terrible year, I lay curled up in a bean bag chair in our attic bedroom trying every trick I knew to meditate myself into oblivion. In the period b.p. (before pain) July fourth meant a bar-b-cue on Mark's front deck with the best chicken wings and cold beer. Around 7:00pm we'd wander down to the river to stake our place for the fireworks show. a.p. (after pain), July fourth was just another damn holiday when I couldn't get in touch with my doctor, nurse, physician's assistant, acupuncturist, chiropractor, homeopath, or physical therapist.

It's been several years since I last lay in that bean bag. Today, Richard and I are going to a new bar-b-cue on a deck overlooking the bay where we'll eat shrimp, drink Merlot, and watch fireworks from a distance.

July fourth is now just another day to be with my sweetie and friends. It doesn't get much better.

Happy July 4th!