I’ll never forget my first fireworks show as a married woman. Sitting on the hood of our car, together with my new husband, our marriage was barely out of its first trimester. We parked in a dirt lot, away from the excitement of the celebration, with a few other families.
I had moved south and in with my husband to a new town just over two weeks earlier. This was our first holiday in our new home. And as they had so many times in those two weeks, tears silently rolled down my cheeks while I watched color explode in the sky.
Ignite the Night
While I’m not particularly patriotic, I have always loved the July 4th holiday. Since I was able to drive, I don’t think I’ve missed a fireworks display.
For a few years as a child, my family would watch from the back deck at our house. But it didn’t take long for the trees to outgrow the reach of the colors.
I remember that for a few years, we watched fireworks from the hospital parking garage. My brother never much liked the percussive booms, so he would wear my dad’s shooting headphones. For at least one year, he fell asleep. We would sometimes find a grassy place to sit, but we didn’t join the town on the sports field for music beforehand.
Once I could drive, I would meet up with friends at the city field where the festivities were held. We would stay long after the show was over, avoiding the crowd of people leaving through the narrow tunnel from the field to the street.
One year, I trekked to the highest point in the city. The overlook wasn’t as crowded as I expected, and while I could see quite a few displays, it was also underwhelming to be higher than the fireworks.
Then there was the year I watched by myself in a parking lot on the hood of my car. It was fine for me to miss the hubbub on the sports field. I loved being among the people at the event, but just watching the fireworks was enough. It didn’t matter that I had missed everything else.
Katy, I Do Not Feel Like a Firework
I’m not an overly patriotic person. I don’t own clothes with the flag on them, or anything that says “America” that isn’t on an inside tag.
For me, the military is my husband’s job. I married my husband because I like him. I picked a person I wanted to be with. Growing up in my hometown, I had little knowledge of the inner workings of the military.
As my first holiday away from the familiar, that first 4th of July felt like the culmination of all that was different.
Now, married to a military man, I felt the weight of patriotism tangibly for the first time. In just a few months, he was due to deploy for nine months. Our dating had been all long-distance, so we were on track to continue our streak of being physically apart longer than we’d been together.
I knew it was entirely possible that my husband would go away and not come home again. My heart was heavy. I had unknowingly signed up for the military. I just wanted to love this guy.
The military world was vastly different from the civilian world. There were rules I didn’t know and resources I wasn’t aware of. I was learning a new town, a new social society, and a new partner all at once.
And, surprise to probably no one except myself, I wasn’t handling these challenges gracefully at all.
Let It Shine
I realized during that first married fireworks show how sad I was about so many things.
I was working hard to feel settled in a new physical community. But I was also working and waiting to feel settled within myself.
So much had changed, I had changed, and now I had to relearn who I was.
Of course, eventually I did. I became more adept at handling the changes and challenges of military life. I learned more about myself and what I need to thrive in a new place.
Hindsight is a gift. Looking back, we can see how far we’ve come. We get to celebrate all that we have learned and how we’ve grown.
Hindsight reminds me, in real time, that it gets better. And, maybe more importantly, you get better at doing it.
The more you put yourself out of your comfort zone, the better you get at being uncomfortable. You learn the things you need to help keep yourself grounded. You get better at making friends and become more accustomed to putting yourself out there. And you blend traditions, make new ones.
No matter what you’re going through, eventually, you will find your way. Old traditions will give way to new ones. Eventually, you’ll know the place to go to watch the fireworks. You’ll find your place in a new community.
Keep going, and keep your eyes open for what you’re learning along the way.
