What July 4th Means to Me

Today is the 4th of July and like every year, I am thinking of my mother. Most people think back about Christmases or birthdays but no other day of the year brings memories of my mother, my childhood or my home rushing back like July 4th. As a result, I love this day.

A fan of all things colonial America, my mother loved our home in Riverton, NJ: a thoroughly colonial and historic little borough in the northeast. She would have preferred to stay in Massachusetts but I do believe this was the next best thing and it brought my family back home to be near our other relatives.

Riverton is one square mile and was, for the most part, completely charming. It's a combination of colonial and Victorian style homes and has that small-town feel. Our home was situated right on the main road in town and was ideally located away from traffic and near the Delaware River and yacht club.

Being on Main Street, we were in a prime position for the annual Fourth of July Parade. Every year, my mom planned everything from start to finish to revolve around the parade, our front porch, our pool, tons of food and drinks. We're talking a party that started just before the parade at around 9 AM with coffee and pastries from Klipple's Bakery, continued through to the backyard BBQ by the pool and wrapped with fantastic cakes and pies we made ourselves.

Aunts, uncles and cousins would come for the day, friends who didn't live on Main Street would gather on our wrap-around porch and watch the parade.

My mother was in her element. Not only did she love everything about this town, this holiday and the celebration but she loved being a hostess of such a fabulous summer day of activity.

This is how I prefer to remember my mother. She had many faults and I will not attempt to beatify her just because she is dead. However, for my own happiness for the rest of my life, I choose to look back at my mother when she was at her best and happiest. July 4th was usually just such a day.

If you were here, Mommy, I would ask if you remember making that huge cake that looked like the flag? You let me help and it not only looked great but tasted amazing. Everything you baked or cooked was wonderful. I know I complained like an ungrateful little brat and even made you make separate meals for me. I was a terror! Like so many mothers, you never got the recognition you deserved. You were an amazing cook and wonderful baker.

Every wonderful memory I have about this holiday is thanks to you.
I love you and miss you more than you can imagine.