The day begins with the heat index rising. 90 degrees. 99% humidity.

Mom has prepared her (not so) homemade flag cake. Blueberry stripes and strawberry stars. It’s a simple assembly and a hit every year.

The BBQs and gatherings are plentiful, the yards and decks are filled with music and laughter.

Chairs line the streets days in advance, to save the best spots for watching the big parade.

The softball game is in full swing. I can hear the bat drop as players round the bases representing our 5^th street clan – “C’mon Pinky!”

The kids on the block jump onto bikes adorned with flags, streamers, bells and whistles. The pageantry has begun and the excitement is palpable.

Potato sack races and pie eating contests are set up in the park for a day full of fun and competition.

Punks and Sparklers light up the twilight as kids scatter around the Good Humor truck. “Two Bomb Pops and a Strawberry Shortcake please.”

Blankets are spread as a hush falls over the crowd. The first boom sounds while eager faces gaze up at the colorful bursts.

The walk home is warm and filled with critique. This display was definitely better than last year. Hands down.

My sunburned body crawls into bed and I feel that familiar sense of fatigue and contentment.

Another 4^th is over. It went by so fast. Can’t wait til next year.