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Last night was absolutely wild. The sky was bursting with light, like a prairie fire on steroids.
Sorry.
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My husband and two brothers always make a big deal out of it—stocking up on enough fireworks to turn our backyard into a real-life explosion.
This year, though, we got a little distracted. The holiday came and went without so much as a spark in our neighborhood (well, my husband did manage to pull out a few small ones for the kids, but nothing like the usual spectacle).
So, I have a few things to confess.
First, these photos weren’t taken at our house. If you’re thinking that, you’re right. They were taken during a trip to Chicago over Memorial Day weekend. That explains the tired faces and the chill we felt on Navy Pier that evening.
Second, I haven’t taken a single photo in days. In fact, I haven’t taken one in two days, and before that, it had been two days again. I could keep going. To be honest, I’ve been dealing with some pretty bad nausea over the past week and a half, and honestly, a picture of my toilet didn’t seem very appealing. But I’m starting to feel better now, and I think I'm finally coming out of that rough patch.
Smiling from outside the bathroom,
It’s funny how life throws you curveballs. One minute you're planning a fireworks show, and the next, you're stuck in a bathroom with no idea when you’ll feel human again. But here I am, back in the game, ready to take more pictures and maybe even start a new tradition. Who knows what next year will bring?
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