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October 21, 2012


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I've been thinking about you. Wondering where you've been. Metaphorically speaking. I read this piece and I want to apologize. I know that I wasn't there for any of this, but I still feel that way. July is always hot and weary for me, and I have to chivvy myself up to the kind of energy it takes to throw the little party I have in my back yard. But I'm always glad I did it in the end. I always want the children to remember the day - wearing star crowns and getting their faces painted and swinging from the tree. I hate fireworks mostly - the little ones. People act like nothing bad can happen when they're having fun. But they're wrong. I like the big ones, from far enough away, they can't explode right over your head, which actually happened to friends of ours one year - the big firework misfiring, and their blanket disappearing in a shower of brilliant and painful sparks. The baby had to be rushed to the emergency room.

The poor attendant. And the poor cats. And the poor woman who had to clean it all up. Some people are blessed with the strength to clean things up. You have to figure, you are one of them.

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