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It’s Independence Day here in the U.S.  Right off the bat, I’ll tell you this is not a patriotic post.  To most here, this day means picnics, cookouts, red, white and blue plates,  desserts in the country’s colors, and fireworks  in the evening.Though summer has already officially begun, to many, this is the real commencement of the summer season. I don’t know how many of us think a lot on this day about the origins of the holiday. For the most part, our independence and freedom are things a lot of us who have been here for a long time, or whose families have,  take for granted. I am not saying it should be that way, but I believe it is.

For me, July Fourth, has always meant that my birthday was just around the corner, followed by my father’s birthday only a few days later. When I was very young, I was excited about birthdays, and especially about mine.

As I grew into my teens, I had mixed emotions regarding the anniversary of my birth. I suppose I expected the day to be as magical as it had felt in childhood, and of course, it wasn’t. I often felt disappointed and sad, rather than in a celebratory mood. I guess with my day following so closely on the heels of the Fourth of July holiday, our Independence Day, I expected well….fireworks. As you know, life isn’t always filled with fireworks.

As a kid, being the baby of the family, and having been in a serious auto accident that caused my parents to be extremely overprotective, I pushed back hard and rejected being treated like a piece of fragile china. I was fierce in fighting for my independence, often rebelling against simple and necessary rules, and definitely questioning and challenging larger ones that my friends and family members pretty much accepted. I  wanted to do everything for myself and didn’t like being told what I should or shouldn’t do.

I asserted my independence in relationships too, and confused the poor young men whose paths crossed mine because I was hard to read. I seemed shy, polite and quiet, even tender, dreamy and romantic, but I held on ferociously to my need to be as independent as possible, and to not be subjected to doing things the way everyone else thought I needed to.

In my teens I wrote a poem that began with, “My poor, dull youth is riding away on horseback while I sleep. I watch it go. I am alone and bored.”  I wanted adventure. I wanted to be some sort of fictional character who threw myself into exciting scenarios, but who didn’t really need other people.

Now that I have lived and survived many decades of life’s adventures and curveballs, the need for so-called personal independence doesn’t often occupy my thoughts.  I have come to realize that we are all inter-dependent and that is a good thing. Every action, every thought, every wish, every goal, every mistake, every consequence, every emotion, is connected to the Universe and to everyone in it. Nowadays, I don’t feel vulnerable and frightened the way I did as a kid, when I allow myself into the lives of others, or allow them into mine.   I feel scared and vulnerable without the connections I have forged, and which I strive to continue  creating for the remainder of my life.

I also don’t look for firework a lot.  Years ago, I used to love watching the Fourth of July fireworks from the rooftop of some of my friends’ apartment buildings when I was growing up. Then when my kids were young,  I enjoyed trudging out on this night, with lawn chairs, drink coolers, insect repellent and kids in tow, to fight for a small patch of grass on which to watch the amazing colors explode into the sky.  Nowadays, I welcome quiet Fourths, without the noise, excitement and crowds.  I very much welcome the quieter times of life,  and especially the ones when there are no family crises, no illnesses and maybe even no great adventures.

Today was just another day to me. I caught up on some reading. My kids had plans and my husband was working.  Tonight is  just another hot,  muggy summer night. I don’t think I am dull, but I truly cherish and enjoy peace and quiet now, when I can get some.