being bob

our father's birthday was the third of july, so naturally as a little boy, he assumed that all the fireworks and sparklers were an extension of his celebration. so did we when we were children at otter lake, firing off roman candles and watching their trajectory over the lake. we lit those flat grey disks and watched them grow into thick ash smokey snake squiggles, held sparklers close to our little faces or drew fire line images in the air like an abstract artist painting wildly. then of course we would eat cake (later it had more candles than cake).
this is the time of year we would gather at 918 year after year.
we always made a big deal about his b-day, adoring him. how he loved life. you could feel his goodness inside his being.