The Fourth of July is a "great" day, right? NOT! I do not like this holiday, AT ALL!!! Now, Ive had some really good Fourth of July holidays. Like the one at my Father in Laws farm. (Keri - Remember that one?) And I like it when my kids get excited about things like this but there are good (I think) reasons why I hate it! Here ya go...
First, it's HOT! I am a well known heat wimp! If its over 90 degrees then Im inside. If it's over 100 degrees, Im inside complaining! I don't like to sweat, I don't like to smell and I don't like to see other people do either. Then, it's LOUD! Crack, Boom...I hate it. Im usually the one everyone makes fun of for jumping every time one of the loud crackers go off. Im even known to scream a time or two. Third, its dangerous. Watching my little ones holding a sparkler gives me anxiety. The thought of those little hands getting burnt...well, lets not go there!
But, the main reason that this holiday is miserable for me...Landon. Every year for 8 years I've thought of him on this holiday. For a long time I couldn't figure out why. For many years I spent time trying to wrap my mind around why such an insignificant holiday could work me up so much. Then, last year, I finally figured it out. You see, I knew something was wrong with Landon from the time he was conceived. I couldn't say what it was, it was just a gut feeling I had the whole 9 months I was pregnant. So, while I was pregnant I never had daydreams about what it would be like to have the baby here. I just knew. Last year I had a memory, one I had blocked out for 7 years. I was sitting on my back porch watching Tyler light black snakes on the sidewalk. Nathan was helping him light them. I looked over on the ground beside me and, for the first and only time, I imagined a little boy sitting on the porch with me. He was smiling and laughing and loving every minute of it. I smiled. Then it faded. It was the ONLY time during my pregnancy that I imagined something happy with this baby. It was the ONLY time!
Now, 8 years have past since that moment in on the porch. Holidays have come and gone and the pain is still there. But on this hot and loud holiday I can't help but imaging a little almost 8 year old boy blowing things up and loving every minute of it. I imagine myself on the porch having a small but wonderful daydream of a healthy baby boy growing up with me. And all of that makes me very sad.