2001-07-05 - 2:50 p.m.

Sometimes you just go to a party, and not much happens, and you don�t think profound thoughts, and you don�t analyze every situation. Sometimes you spend three hours making green bean salad, and you hop on your bicycle, and bike farther than you ever have on real streets, in real traffic. And then you talk about it a little too much, about how scary it was in traffic (even though the streets were empty), and how hot it was (even with the wind whipping against you), just to sound impassioned about something. And sometimes there are people there that you don�t know, and people that you used to know, and people that you know too well, but you don�t worry too much about who you�re talking to. Sometimes you�re just talking to whomever�s standing next to you. And sometimes all you worry about is when we�re going to eat, and how shish kebabs aren�t shish kebabs without barbeque sauce, or some sort of sauce, and you don�t mind going to the convenience store, because it�s practically next door. And you halfheartedly listen to see if anyone mentions the green bean salad, but then you start listening to the conversation next to you in Italian, and sometimes you understand a whole sentence, although usually you only get every other word. And sometimes you follow the crowd out to Zilker Park, and up above the moon is rising, and the sun is setting, but there is discomfort down below: a hard ground, and scratchy grass, and sweat leaking from every pore. And sometimes you remember things that you haven�t thought about in a long time, like junior year of marching band, when you played the 1812 Overture (and when you heard the finale, for one brief second, you remembered exactly where you stood on the football field, bass drums booming), and the first year that you and Trey saw fireworks together, escaping the family reunion, and driving out to Lenox Square, congratulating yourselves on being together and in love. And then sometimes you wonder if it always comes back to that, no matter how much time passes. But then there is iced lemonade (the only thing that really cools you off), and then there are fireworks, and you ooh and ahh, no intense thoughts required, because that is what you do, sometimes, that is what you do on the fourth of July.

The Lucksmiths made me cry this morning at work. Here is why:

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