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What a Difference...

The 4th of July (well technically a week prior to the 4th, but I have a feeling in the years to come we won't remember June 25th as much as July 4th) marks the anniversary of our relocation to Carlisle. The first Independence Day we spent here was quite emotional for me. Actually it was miserable and a big reason I didn't feel bad running away to KC for our 2011 red, white, and blue celebrations.

Every time I turned around yesterday, from the parade brunch in the front yard to the time we spent out and about in town, I was repeatedly reminded of all the good people who have come into our lives over the past 2 years who have helped Carlisle to become our home. I am SO thankful for those lovely, lovely people. Our life regularly involves more laughter because of them.






This is the view from our front step as we waited for the parade to start. I love living on the route!


After our morning brunch and parade watching party we headed to the park. Having been wrestled into doing a little volunteering this year, I called Bingo while Scott helped keep track of the fun at the inflatables. The planning committee does such a nice job of putting together fun events for the community for the day!


It was so hot here during the day that we were melted well before the 10:00 fireworks. Scott went to bed with a terrible heat related headache, but the girls and I managed to sneak down the block a bit (Brea half asleep and in her PJs since I pulled her out of bed to join Lexi and I) to see a few that shot above the trees of our well established neighborhood. My favorite image of the day is one that is only visible in my memory: the girls snuggled in the grass, Brea in Lexi's lap, quietly talking about each firework and which were their favorites. At that moment I wanted to stop time and just bask in life's perfectness.

As fun as our day was, it did have its own dark spot unfortunately. Mid-day I found out my 98-year-old great-grandma had fallen in the night suffering a fractured hip. She lives independently and alone. Thankfully her neighbor, Ruth, noticed that something wasn't quite right when grandma's newspaper was still laying on her step mid-morning. An ambulance was called when Ruth discovered grandma on the floor. My thoughts have been a bit scattered and hundreds of miles away since the first text from my Mom saying they were in ER. At 98, even though she is in relatively good health for her age, treatment options are a bit more complicated. As far as I know she is still in surgery as I write this needing first to have a pacemaker put in to help with a slow heart rate issue before any hip repairs could be addressed. We have plans to head out to Western Nebraska in 5 days. My heart wants to be able to be there NOW. I do hope I will have the chance to hold these precious hands in mine when we finally get there.




peace

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peace