Freedom.

Today is my favorite day of the year.

This year, the holiday weekend started out with major annoyances and quite a few snags thanks to this menace of a storm called Arthur that is haunting the East Coast.  Yesterday I spent nearly eight hours in limbo at Logan Airport as my flight to Philadelphia was delayed by twenty minutes, then by another thirty, then by an hour, then by another ninety minutes, and so on and so forth, until I finally cried uncle at 9pm, changed my ticket for another day entirely, asked that my luggage be pulled from the belly of the plane and took a cab back to my apartment.

As you might imagine I was rather livid in the airport.  This was my holiday!  And all of my plans and the weekend I'd been looking forward to were going up in smoke.

However, once a decision was actually made to just get a different flight on a different day, I felt better.  How nice to simply not be stuck in limbo any longer!  The minute I climbed into the back of the cab that was thankfully, blessedly, whisking me away from the airport, I texted a friend who lives in my neighborhood about the Boston fireworks - which had been moved up a night thanks, again, to Sir Storm Arthur.  In a matter of minutes I had dropped my luggage, poured a beer into a plastic cup for a road soda, and scurried back out of my apartment to meet my friend so we could walk down to the Charles together for the fireworks.  Despite the harried day and the looming threat of the storm, my mood swung in the complete opposite direction of where it had been all afternoon the minute I stepped outside to a city filled with people teeming toward the river.  I couldn't have been happier standing alongside Memorial Drive watching bright explosion after explosion burst in rapid succession along my dear and wonderfully beloved city's skyline.  I even caught myself grinning from ear to ear, with no one to notice but myself.

The moment the last firework was sent up into the sky, the announcers for the show explained that the Boston police department was issuing an evacuation due to the impending storm.  Oh weather, you are a fickle beast.  As my friends and I made our way among the crowd and back towards our neighborhood we commented about the timing of the night, discussing how, in between pointing out the flashes of lightening we could just see in the distance, lucky we would be to make it home before the impending downpour.  Just as we were saying that, my friend looked further down the street. "Funny," he said. "It looks like it's already raining up ahead.  See in the streetlight there?"

And with that, the heavens opened upon us all. 

We were soaked completely through within minutes, wading through the puddles fast collecting along the streets.  All around there were shrieks and screams, laughter, and a general sense of buoyancy.  Because what else was there at that point?  After I bid my friends a soggy adieu, I climbed up the stairs to my apartment. Flip flops drenched and squeaking, I peeled off my clothes the minute I walked in the door and climbed into the shower, already chilled from the sudden downpour.  Aah, the 3rd of July.  What a night to remember.

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This morning I woke early, near dawn.  It was brilliantly sunny and I thought for a moment perhaps the downpour from last night was all Boston would actually see of the storm.  As the morning unfolded though the sky grew darker.  By noon it was obvious we were in for a very wet and soggy sort of day.  How frustrating. This is supposed to be the day we all bask in the sunshine, soaking up rays, swimming in a pool or an ocean or a lake.  One of the things I adore the most about the 4th of July is the sweet simplicity of the holiday - summer weather, picnics, BBQ, good friends, cold beers, blueberry pie, and fireworks to close out the day.  How can anyone not love this holiday?

But as I sat on my porch, sipping coffee, watching the ominous clouds roll in, I knew that kind of 4th was, alas, simply not in the cards for Boston this year.  I had to make peace with that.  And so, rather than plan for the BBQ and grilling and usual Independence Day festivities, I took myself to yoga.  Seemed like a logical choice. 

Halfway through the flow, as a new song was about to begin on her playlist, my yoga teacher announced, in between sun salutations, that she couldn't help but add the next song for today.  With that, the first notes of Ray Charles's lovely rendition of America the Beautiful began.  Immediately I felt a collective, palpable energy throughout the studio and as I made my way into downward dog I couldn't help but smile, grateful for the reminder.

For here I was - busy and happily leading such a great and good and wonderful life, full of freedoms and liberties and so, so many boundless opportunities.  What good fortune has befallen me so very often in this life.  And how lucky I am to call America, problems or no, my home, my birthplace.  It might be pouring outside, I might not have made it to the destination originally intended for this weekend.  The ribs, the hot dogs, the corn on the cob?  They would all be served another day.  We'll enjoy our lemonade, our Sam Summer beers, our watermelon slices on a different afternoon.  It might sound cheesy to be so moved by a single song, to tell you I had this annual epiphany not on a grassy lawn somewhere as I usually do on July 4th but on a rubber yoga mat this year, but I was and I did.  Because the thing I love so very much about this holiday, along with the above mentioned tangible reasons, is the fact that today is the one day out of the year that is reserved for celebrating all that so many of us are lucky - lucky!- enough to take for granted.   

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Last fall, I traveled to Morocco for ten days.  People often ask me what that trip was like and I honestly tell them that it was amazing, inspiring, and incredible.  And it was, on so many levels.  Yet I always tell them too, that when I flew home from that trip and finally deplaned at Logan, I nearly cried I was so grateful to see our beautiful red, white, and blue flag hanging above the door leading us beyond customs.  

The United States doesn't always get it right, I have yet to see or find a country that always does.  But we certainly do a lot of things really, truly, wonderfully.  And I love it here.  

From sea to shining sea.