It was over too soon.
When we left it was a gridlock of cars in a hot and sultry FLorida downtown, and it was close to midnight, and nearly my birthday; my hands were still sticky with chocolate icecream, despite my best efforts of cleaning myself off; the sky still trembled with the memory of light and splendor; I was sitting in the car while my soon-to-be husband maneuvered us out of the maze of cordoned off downtown streets and pointed us towards home, and I was at once full of a wide-awake exhilaration and pleasurably tired and sleepy like a child after an outing which was ordinarily on too late after its usual bedtime but for which it had been allowed to stay up for by special dispensation. I had a sense that life could be good. And I was right.
I will leave it at that. But for another aspect of what today means, or should mean,I'd urge you to visit rdeck's own blog and read today's entry.
In any event... happy birthday, America.
*I wrote about this on the newsgroup that was (then) home to both of us - in first person - but the problem was that I had no account of my own so I posted the write-up through rdeck's account -which prompted a deluge of responses blaming me for ruined keyboards and monitors and begging me to refrain from posting things that invoked a mental image of rdeck prancing around on the pier wearing denim shorts and pigtails...