there's something about the fourth of july in a city where everyone is new to the whole america thing. every year Miami Springs has the 'splash zone' of the annual parade just down the block from my house. we’re drinking mimosas on my friend's lawn with the parents and getting soaked as the fire trucks go by, the whole neighborhood is hooting and hollering. strangers keep coming up to fill up buckets of water from the garden hose.

music is blasting from every super soaker loaded parade float and Gunnar dances wildly on the front lawn getting absolutely drenched, mimosa in hand. everyone in town is cheering and laughing and chanting. "U...S...A..."

before the biggest of the fire trucks comes to get us all Wet, permanently and with targeted militaristic precision, a man I know from the breakfast scene stumbles along asking for a mimosa refill. nobody on the lawn knows who he is other then me but in the spirit of the holiday they oblige. before he saunters off he gives Gunnar a kiss for their troubles in front of the whole city… scandalous!

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the fourth of july turns out to be a massive blowout. after getting kissed in front of the fire truck Gunnar gets invited to a pool party barbecue by the lake. shooting pool with the boys, dancing to music with local rappers and musicians. Gunnar is given the tour of an elaborate new kitchen remodel and browses charcuterie board after board.

as night falls Gunnar comes along to the barbecue afterparty in Hialeah's suntan village, famous for homes with rooftop terraces. spiraling with guys from the past in the round above ground pool to make whirlpools, spinning and laughing in the current beers in hand. playing boys vs girls flip cup tournaments (the girls with Gunnar nearly always win.)

everyone goes out to the street in flip flops to set off fireworks and it is like the whole world is exploding. the neighbor's house is on fire from the squatters setting off fireworks not far away but we still have ours set off in the road anyway. as the firetruck sirens across the street sound, colors and lights explode over us. in bikinis and swim trunks we're all drinking coronas or whatever really. we’re all having the time of our lives right now.

most remarkable to me about the house was the furniture, all my favorite furniture from my Ikea live, including my favorite cabinet I pointed out. always so fun to share my tastes with the people. its hard to see all the people you share your life with sometimes and its just really beautiful in a way. all of us the neighborhood kids, and although I really left this world so long ago for just the night I am a part of it again. although a star's place is in the sky, tonight the sky is reserved for explosions, for fireworks, for american dreams and for drunken screams. 

he looks into my eyes and it's all so long ago. I see all the same faces and same smiles known so long before and it's all like a dream. we were all children and here we are with houses, with careers, with flip cup and bikinis and exploding stars. everyone knows me but not yet myself, they know someone that once existed if they ever did. it’s me but it isn’t. I smile, I’m having a great time, and in his eyes i know i am really seen even if nobody has said it.

they can all smell it. a change is taking place. the drunk man that kissed me and my mimosa in front of the fire truck knew. the change has been wrought. all the absence, all of the mystery, not quite revealed but palpable, a change. all of the girls in their bikinis and all of the guys in their board shorts and unbuttoned shirts. soaking wet floating bumping into each other.

all of the girls clap because we're totally winning flip cup. all of us new americans cheering drunk filling the cups as low as we can now to stretch all the beer. consider these cups flipped. this is what freedom is all about and it's like a commercial, like hollywood, like that blue tarp slip and slide covered in dish soap was the american flag. no posers and no transplants in sight all of us neighborhood kids together around the folding table cross faded. barefoot on concrete and the fire is still burning next door.

the magic of a holiday is how it comes around every year. every july fourth lives on side by side in our memories and when we come together it is like we all never left. at the end of the weekend my neighbor goes back to the city, all the neighborhood kids all go back to work at the hospital, or the warehouse, or the restaurant, out of town. for someone like me it's back to real life, to being my own event, to carrying the flame of civilization and of the party through life.  

my middle school friends drop me off at my historic house in the Springs still soaking wet and wrapped in a towel. nobody has my number and it's okay. i know the firetrucks will be back again next year.