The good life

This summer has been a whirlwind of events so far. Carol and Allison both got married in gorgeous ceremonies with love and friends and family all around them. Sheila graduated from high school (hooray!). And I had a great 4th of July.

That's today's entry - how awesome my July 4th weekend was. It was one of those moments, rather a series of moments, that was just so serene and fun and breathtaking that I felt compelled to write. And so I write.

After a seemingly endless summer of party planning and execution, I decided I needed a weekend at the beach before I left for my big trip. Lucky me that Ray has a beach house - and that it was open. We headed to Oak island, her and I accompanied by J.Moe, Poon, and Jimmy. We spent our first afternoon lounging at the beach, eventually getting in the water because it was too damn hot outside. The water. Was. Amazing. We grilled out, ate, napped, ate. J.Moe had to leave but the rest of us continued - eating, napping, etc.

That night, July 4th, we decided to head to the beach. Ray offered up the idea of biking down to the beach - hell, we had no idea she had bikes, so that right there coulda made our night. That was Sweet Moment #1. The four of us, best friends, biking down the strip towards the beach at 9pm. It was a cool 70-something degrees out, quiet, dark, and a bit breezy. We biked about 10 blocks to the public access point, using the headlights of the few passing cars to light our way. We were lucky to find the shore only sprinkled with people, and we quickly pushed our bikes to a sandy spot with no one around. We set up shop by the light of a cell phone - a blanket on the ground, held down at the corners by backpacks and shoes; a disposable grill in a small foil tray set up nearby with flames creeping from beneath the coals; fireworks placed in the sand, angled towards an ocean we could hardly see.

As we waited for the flames to die down, we lit 3-foot sparklers and pranced around in the sand like teenagers, waving our wands and lighting the air in front of us with spirals, ribbons, and hearts. We lit Roman Candles and shot them in different directions, capturing it with a long exposure time on Jimmy's camera. Eventually, the mini-grill was hot and ready, and we rolled marshmallows around until they were gooey and s'more-ready. We stuffed our faces with dark chocolate, cinnamon graham s'mores until we just couldn't anymore. Then we shot off more fireworks, lightheartedly competing with others down the beach whose purchase of fireworks was far superior to ours - we didn't care. We lit the soft waves with our reds and greens and blues, as the fireworks glittered over the water. Our own dark Eden.

And then at some point during all that fun, someone happened to look up and just stopped. We all followed suit and what we saw was breathtaking - and endless sea of stars. There were no clouds, no moon, and no bright pollution from the shore. Just stars. It seemed so unreal, something so unattainable that the only place I'd ever seen anything like it was in a planetarium. I got giddy looking at them, even started to count. I scoured the sky for shooting stars to wish on, eventually just laying back and soaking in the scene without asking for more than what was in front of me. It was beautiful. It was a moment. It was a night full of moments culminating in that one spectacular view. And it was wonderful.

In fact, I fell asleep. Seems a little odd, falling asleep in that moment but it felt amazing. Lying back in the sand, somehow shaking my very real fear of crabs crawling from up underneath me, and letting the stars, that actually twinkled, lull me to sleep.

Eventually when we woke up, we gathered our things and biked back to the house. A perfect ending. We woke up lazily the next morning and headed back for one last hoorah at the beach. We laid in the sand till the heat was too much to bare, then rode the waves until we finally dragged ourselves out. Then we came home.

And all I can think about is how wonderful that night was. Spent with some of my greatest friends, on a perfect night, having perfect fun. We decided to make it a tradition. I hope that takes hold - I love them all dearly.