The sky was black with tiny explosions of color breaking through the darkness. I stared out my window and watched three different firework shows on the Fourth of July.
Though all I wanted was to stay in bed all day I begrudgingly put on my black bathing suit and left for the beach.
I immediately regretted this decision as I wove through the crowd of scantily clad drunk teenagers, hoping that my former classmates would not recognize me and pull me in for sloppy hugs. Luckily I was like a undercover spy with this new hair of mine and safely made it to the beach unharmed.
It was hot, and the drunk underclassman we met up with made me sad.
I remembered past Independence Days: Two years ago making smoothies at work and going next door to the little boutique my sister worked at on my break and returning to the dish washing station smelling like booze. And last year being the designated driver for my friends and sister as they lay in the sun drinking vodka poorly disguised in a water bottle.
I felt sick to my stomach remembering both of these instances.
It was the first time being home that I felt miles away from all of them.
I had never been this far.
I disappeared from the cluster of towels and walked up the long hill back to my car.
Since when were we so far away from each other?
I want to create something significant. how can I do that when everything is so disposable?
As the last of the fireworks faded away and only the distance sound of them remained I couldn't help but wonder when this place changed for me.
I remember when I first came back and felt like an outsider. I was at this coffee place we used to all hang out at--I mean, we used to spend HOURS there. When I went back, even those who hadn't moved on treated me like I was some kind of alien. What's worse is that I knew they were right. I had moved on from one phase of my life and was now enjoying something new. Sadly, we never really feel like we've had the right kind of closure on each phase and so we wistfully wish we could revisit the past one last time. As James Agee wrote: "You can never go home again."
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