Last winter, Aaron and I had some pretty distinct discussions about how to celebrate the 4th of July this year.
Surrounded by farmland, we imagined that the yard and pastures would be alive with friends and cousins launching rockets and popping firecrackers. We thought up ideas for socializing on the deck, swimming in the pond and cooking from the garden. Citronella candles, friend chicken, sunblock and smoke bombs would waft through the air. A kid or two would wail in the distance after getting a burn from a punk. Then, after dark, the dads would light an epic display by the pond while the rest of us watched from lawn chairs and picnic blankets.
It would be the perfect holiday – just like every 4th of July on my family’s farm as a kid.
As we crept further and further into the Coronavirus quarantine and social response – it became very clear that our idea of 4th of July wouldn’t look quite the same in reality this year.
We made plans with my brother to go camping – but eventually decided it would be too hot to be in a tent with a baby. (To be fair, it was.) We made plans with my extended family to embrace our annual celebration in the cornfield – but that was canceled with the increased risk to all of us being together. We planned to go to the annual water balloon fight on the water at Lake Dabinawa – but decided there would be too many people there too. Finally, we made late plans with friends and family at our own house – then, sadly, canceled that too with worries of being the cause for someone getting sick. It was bittersweet. No matter how much we wanted to be around everyone – gathering felt like a terrible idea.
Instead, we kept it simple. Aaron’s mom Anna brought Grandma Helen to visit. At 97 years young, she’s the family’s treasure. Her stories are incredible. Sitting in the breeze on the deck, we talked at length about the differences in raising kids in the 60s versus raising them now. She laughed at the pouch of organic baby food I squeezed directly into Isai’s face. She was astonished that we don’t have or need a high chair. And, she had the best advice for new pajamas. (“Always get the two-piece because then they can’t grow too tall for them.”)
She watched as we bustled about. Aaron at the grill. Anna helping with all the prep and baby watching. Me mixing cocktails and dropping Isai into the baby pool. He played. He ate. We all orbited around him in true 4 adults, 1 baby style.
While the burgers finished on the grill, we took a ride in the side-by-side. The side-by-side has been a fun feature of the farm in the last month or so. Anyone that visits gets a ride. We usually cruise out to the pastures and ramp a few rough patches to make it exciting.
The game changes a bit when Grandma is on board.
There are moments with friends and family – especially grandparents – that you wrap up in your heart and hold super close forever. Watching Aaron drive Grandma Helen around the farm is one of them. Snapping a photo of the whole gang – I could see in full the inspiration of my husband’s adventurous spirit.
I could also see exactly where my son gets what has become to be known as his beloved wrinkled-nose “stank face.” (I’m looking at you, dear.)
Sharing a great meal – we gathered, once again, around the folding table in our kitchen. I’ve started to laugh each time the folding table gains another notch for bringing us all together. All the fancy furniture in the world can’t do the work of this cheapo plastic table.
We took one last photo before Anna and Grandma Helen left. Isai and I stepped to the back to squeeze all of our faces into the selfie. In true curious-baby style, he reached both hands to grab fistfuls of Grandma Helens hair just milliseconds before I could stop him. (Oh for the love, child!) Breathing a sigh of relief that he didn’t make it to her head – we caught our snap.
As the gravel crunched under their wheels pulling down the driveway – I was grateful we had the time we had with them to celebrate the holiday. No matter how quick or seemingly understated, it was truly wonderful to have such important people in our lives here to share the very first 4th with us.
But, it wasn’t over.
I’m sure Aaron was thinking that it was. He has resigned to “this 4th is going to be nothing like the 4th.” Albeit wonderful, it was very little like how we usually celebrate or what we typically expect.
“Load up the bows,” I said.
“Huh?” he responded – obviously caught off guard.
“Load up the bows. We can go shoot now.”
That caught his attention. He had fully intended to shoot guns in the back pasture with his buddy Ryan. When we canceled our bigger plans, that was wrecked and I felt terrible. But that didn’t change that I really wanted to shoot bows and he wanted to shoot guns and baby was itching to be set down to play. So, we went for it.
Honestly, it was crazy fun. I just bought my bow a week ago and have had a blast learning the form. The real benefit here is that I can go hang out with Aaron on the range without being super bored. I’m not all that into firing the guns, but the bow is right up my alley. Aaron packed out his new 30-30 along with a couple of hand guns.
We hauled baby’s Pack-n-Play to the pasture and set him up with a pair of ear muffs. We took turns snuggling the dude and keeping him entertained while the other shot targets. And, slowly, the sun set behind the trees – leading us right into prime fireworks time.
For a bit, we dropped the gear in the garage and took off on a ride down the gravel roads. Isai loves the wind in his face, so we were slightly hoping he might go down for a little nap. The day had been long and the sleep had been none.
Within minutes, he folded over on my arms. We just cruised. We passed farm after farm and explored some new roads we hadn’t been on. A few families gathered in their front yards. Kids were lighting fireworks in the driveways. Adults were fanning firework smoke away from their faces. Large tables of food were spanned out nearby. It made me long for the big parties we’ve had in the past. But I also loved how we were spending the holiday – a way we wouldn’t have otherwise chosen.
Returning to home, Aaron grabbed his massive box of firework mortars from the garage. We had a minor standoff early in the morning. After breakfast, he refused to stop in Lawrence for fireworks. “It’s just going to be us anyway.”
He wasn’t wrong. It did seem silly to buy fireworks for Aaron to shoot, me to watch and Isai to sleep through.
“Just get them. You wanted to get them. You were excited to do it. Isai might even try to watch them.” Even my words didn’t sound sincere though. It was admittedly tough to stay in the spirit of the holiday while so much going on around us is really difficult to face.
We ended up driving past our own driveway and going an extra 20 minutes out of our way to buy the farm’s first fireworks from the Kiwanis stand in McLouth. The energy, once we got there, changed. It was exciting. Small, but exciting. In true small-town style, when my husband picked the biggest pack of nighttime works they had and they saw the handful of tiny kid poppers and monkey carts that I picked, they loaded us up with an extra $30 of monkeys, poppers, punks and lanterns for free.
There are few things I will remember quite in the same way as watching Aaron literally dance across the pasture with his huge box of fireworks. He may have attempted a heel click or two. He was spinning and hopping side to side. Eventually, it lifted it over his head and continued to bounce to the table at the middle of the grass.
He unwrapped the colorful metallic mortars like Christmas gifts. Carefully putting the trash to the side, he unrolled wicks, arranged the tubes and prepared the entire launch station as the sun slowly disappeared.
Isai started to fuss around 9 p.m. – bedtime. “We might need to go for it early if we want to do it,” I warned. Aaron – pretty anxious to light something on fire – agreed without hesitation.
One-by-one, the epic collection of ‘works popped and crackled overhead. Isai and his baby ear muffs squished into my arm. He didn’t scream, but he wasn’t so sure of the display. Aaron launched one gorgeous burst after another. And, then, they started in the distance too.
From our spot at the top of the pasture, Isai and I could see fireworks all around. The lake display, our back neighbors’ display…even some toward Lawrence. They seemed to fall in perfect cadence – even when Aaron was prepping the next round, we had something to watch in the distance.
Aaron loaded the wasted remains of the fireworks box into the side-by-side with pride. Our little dude had finally relaxed and gone to sleep. So, we cruised around the back pasture looking for the perfect spot to see everything happening behind the trees. When we didn’t find it, we made our way toward the house.
Driving immediately in front of our front door, we could see everything. Aaron angled us toward the road and turned off the engine. Fireworks popped all around.
“Look, this hill out here…and the rock wall…this is perfect for everyone to sit and watch. We could put tables out there….” We talked about the front pasture as the place for our own fireworks. “We could set up some picnic tables out there and the dads could just light them. Then, you can see all of this around us, too.”
We were so excited, it was hard to know who was contributing which idea at that point.
“You know,” I said. “We wouldn’t have seen this if we had everyone here this year. We would have had everyone go to the backyard or the back pasture – we wouldn’t have ever stopped to see this part.”
He agreed.
Somewhere in the chaos of it all, our simple little holiday revealed some of the best parts of what we have in our lives. Great people. A wonderful home. Beautiful land. Each other.
And, the perfect spot for celebrating next year.