I’m not sure what year it was when mom and I decided to march in the Independence Day parade.
The Northside Band said anyone could join, so we showed up with a hand drum and a tambourine in the church lot and practiced some songs with the folks that actually had melodic instruments. The music was (very) rough around the edges, but the joy in our group elevated the whole thing.
Rain softly fell at some point along the route but it didn’t hamper our collective spirit.
Mom was in it with every ounce of her being—and she kept up that enthusiasm as she moved the celebration to her porch every year after.
I figure she watched from a new vantage point this year—as did I, accepting an invitation from friends, curious about new perspectives.
My brother, niece and nephews and co held down the fort on mom’s porch, my sister in New York, great niece in New Hampshire—all celebrating and sorting from different places, connected by a remarkable woman.
Mom would have loved this year. It was full of spirit and color and light.
Next year? I think it’s time to jump back in and bang a drum.
A tip of the hat to Dan and Brett for the invite.