Fourth

I have fond memories of the Fourth of July as a child: going out to the golf corse, my little brother falling asleep on the same picnic blanket every year and staying up with my mom to watch the fireworks. We weren't just watching fireworks: we were describing our world, trying to devise the perfect name for each one. There were easy ones like popcorn and the slightly more interesting blueberry cobbler and prom dress and my favorites screaming yellow zonkers and fizzing mimis.

It wasn't just fireworks; my mom helped me capture sunsets. When I was older I switched dance studios and my lessons took us from our small town to the next following the sunset. They were all so beautiful I wouldn't want to go inside for my lesson. So the ride there was filled with descriptive phrases my mom would copy down while she waited to drive me home again.

I see now how vital it was for her to keep her hand in writing/describing everything from fireworks to family vacations, but I reaped the benefits of closely observing my world and solidifying each precious moment by our descriptions. At the same time never losing the wonder and awe that I could never encompass or remember it all. Eventually, I saw the value in that lesson, too.