OK - this is supposed to be my favorite holiday because I love sparklers, I love fireworks, I love the noise and the music and celebration. But tonight I am alone because my son is with my ex-husband who may as well live in Egypt and I have no one to "do" sparklers with. Since my son was old enough, I've conned friends to smuggle me sparklers so I can relive some happy memories of my own childhood with my son. I remember the first time he held a sparkler - Jake looked so intensely at it and then cried when it went out. "More light, more light!" he screamed. So I lit another one and the intensity of his first stare transformed into sheer joy. I got it. I felt the same way when I was a kid. There was just something about sparklers that made me squeal with delight.
But tonight I am sad because my son is not with me and I am here alone blogging about this feeling of almost being cheated out of spending the Fourth of July with my son. We went to the town parade and I watched him jockey for position with other kids to scrabble for the candy being thrown from the parade floats to all the waiting hands at the sides of the rode along the parade route.
I watched him today with almost a bittersweet feeling - he is still at that age where getting this candy is a big deal but so close to an age where it's not going to matter to him anymore. His enthusiasm is infectious but I dread the bag of candy that will lay around and end up forgotten. God forbid I attempt to toss it - my son will know it's gone. That bag represents a conquest of his youth as do all the other bags of candy that lay discarded and uneaten until enough time had passed where I could deep six the candy and my son none the wiser.
I envy all the people celebrating with family and friends now. I do not have any immediate family within 100 miles. My Mom lives in another state and she is 78 years old. She does not like to celebrate with loud music and fireworks and such. She prefers the quiet of her chair, reading her book and falling asleep at 7:30 p.m. And that's OK. I have a small circle of friends who all have their own families and I never want to feel like an intruder at their festivities. I have grown accustomed to being alone - I've raised my son pretty much all by myself for the past nine years so this is not really a big deal. But there are times in the deepest parts of night when I wake up and find myself wishing for a good guy with a big family of which I can be a part on holidays like these.
I find myself wishing for a real home - a place where serenity exists 24/7 365 and where I can walk in the door every day and not look down for pieces of paper with the words "lease violation" or "inspection scheduled for your apartment" or anything that reminds me every single day of my life that the only thing that I own is the dirt that sticks to my shoes.
I feel like a bottle floating on the ocean - I go where the tide takes me because I am unable to see the shore. I am not grounded, I do not have roots. I simply exist. I am not "lost" in the sense of the word - I just don't feel like I belong.
I am sure there are many single parents who are lucky to be surrounded by loving family and loving friends. But there are many of us like myself who would give anything in the world just to have a place in this world, solid footing on ground on which to build a foundation for a better life for my son and I than the one I am giving him right now.
I wish for a life that would make me feel like the Fourth of July every day.
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