The July 4th holiday weekend was always a big deal for Peter and me. Often, we joined friends at their vacation homes or at local parties. Peter was a big fireworks fan. Me too.
This year I was at home. It wasn’t so bad sitting on my balcony with the newspaper and watching the action on the Charles River—rowers and kayakers and folks walking, running, biking, or skateboarding along the closed-to-cars road. I finished some paperwork related to losing Peter, and failed at trying to epoxy a broken piece of pottery—epoxying was always Peter’s job.
I read a book purely for pleasure, fixed myself a delicious new recipe and felt grateful for all I had and have.