Fourth of July

On the 4th we drove North to Bellingham where my dad has a condo on Lake Whatcom. The weather was beautiful, the kids were great, and the food was yummy. And there was plenty of laziness going around for everyone to enjoy.

That night I drove home, and around 10pm we were on the stretch of I-5 between Marysville and Everett, in a valley with tree-topped hills off in the distance to the East and the South. Bryan was reading and the kids were asleep and I was listening to Brandi Carlile as loud as possible, feeling refreshed in my introverted bubble.

Then, as I looked out over the valley I saw puffs of fireworks all along the treetops, stretching for miles along the thin line between tree and sky.

It was as if God had sewn a sparkley fringe around the horizon.

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