We Missed the Parade

The first thing i see, over the tops of the lonely piano, are the flapping blood-red stripes of the proud, flagpole. The trees are rejoicing, the sun has chased their shadows from the lawn, their arms are open; welcoming the day’s sky. here: the lights are off and the house is quiet, it’s always weird waking in someonelse’s home. Brushing blankets, cool, white tile, past a parade of family pictures, and into the next room- a pile of teenagers sprawled on the couch. ‘What You’re Horoscope Could Tell You’ lying on the table, through the wall of windows: morning dew collects over smoky butts and half-drunk beers no one ever thinks of this scene the night before. “We won’t be able to make it home through the center for at least another hour” a groggy voice informs from behind. “ahh that’s right it’s the fourth of July!” I picture myself as a kid, waiting anxiously on the curve, holding my little brothers ears when the fire trucks pass, never would I have imagined then, anything more devastating, than missing the parade.