Heartwings says, “Years can seem like weeks when memories cluster together.”

Our country has been celebrating its birthday on July fourth for quite a long time now. In three more years, it will be the two hundred and fiftieth birthday of the United States of America. While the first celebration was actually in 1777, it took time to catch on, and catch on it did. In the 1800s celebrations were widespread. Now, of course it is common and even commercialized.

The time passes so quickly now, it was only a few years ago that we celebrated the two hundredth, or so it seems to me.  For me, that holiday has always been filled with memories. I recall the wonderful parades that marched past our home in the town in Massachusetts where the children’s father and I raised our family. I have happy memories of the occasion as one for a gathering of townspeople later that day in the afternoon, with games and races for all ages.

My children participated in all the events and often won them, being well coordinated and athletic, unlike their mother. Unfortunately for me they always insisted I run in the tired mothers’ race—as it was called. Never having been much of a runner, I almost always came in last, but they were proud of me anyway. There was a children’s parade as well, and of course costumes to be cobbled together and happy faces as my family marched with the other children.

I remember as a youngster attending the fireworks held at the beach in her town, with my grandmother. We sat on the sand, watching the set pieces that had been attached to a wooden pier that jutted out into the water. It was a special and cherished experience. Nowadays I usually watch the fireworks on television listening to music. When I lived in Virginia, together with friends and a few thousand others, I got to see the fireworks over the Capitol—a most remarkable display.

Because Stephen’s birthday falls the day before on the third, we celebrate for several days, including the fifth, which is our wedding anniversary. We usually have a party with friends and when we had our inner peace center, we often had some who came from afar and tented in the back yard. July fourth has been a special day for me for as long as I can remember.

As we get older, the years seem to go by faster and faster. While this is surely an illusion, it is a very real experience. The celebrations of memory, with my children in costumes, parading along with others, seem just a few moments from my time with my grandmother and a few more from the parties we called Three Days of Peace and Love—July 3, 4, and 5, with tents on the lawn. Presently, our celebrations of these special days are quieter, and we will not be seeing live fireworks, however they will be just as special as they have always been, in their own way.

May you enjoy your celebration with those you love.

Blessings and Best Regards, Tasha Halpert

P.S. How do you celebrate the Fourth? Share with me if you like, I so enjoy the stories you do. Write me at tashahal@gmail.com.