4th of July

Rooftop fireworks. Everyone in the city goes up to his or her roof to watch the 4th of July fireworks. In Atlanta, you go to the top of a parking lot at Lenox. Or to the Square in Decatur. In New York, the fun is on the roof. Some lucky folks have unobstructed views. I bet some luckier have glorious views of more than one show. There are 3, I think, all around the island. Battery Park, 34th on the East Side. The third...not sure. This year I was with a bunch of girls. And one of the girls' brothers. I was quiet. Introspective. Back when I was traveling, I kept looking forward to celebrating and being all patriotic and silly. But none of that really happened. Instead, I stood under an umbrella watching fireworks shoot into the haze over the city. They formed boas in the sky. And there were ones with planets and stars. It was a great show. I'm happy to be back in my country. And New York.

I do miss carrying my pack, though. All of it. The whole frickin thing. I miss having everything I'm responsible for in the world in one bag that I carry on my back. What am I? A camel?