4th of July

I have always liked the fourth of July. It's not my favorite holiday of all, but it has a certain special feeling associated with it. It meant an extra day off from work, pool parties, BBQ's, and, of course, fireworks. Ever since I was younger fireworks were always very emotional for me. Don't ask me why, I really don't know, sounds kind of silly actually. My first real memory of 4th of July was watching the fireworks in downtown Chicago, against the beautiful skyline. Then, jump about 5 years and I remember me and my best friend, Delorean, sneaking away to watch the fireworks with our boyfriends...two pairs of 13 year olds, holding hands at the park, thinking they were "in love" lol. I have watched the fireworks with my mom, dad, sister ,brother, cousins...I have watched them with my husband and my daughter, I have watched them thru a rainstorm, two years ago, in the car next to my Grandma, the year before she passed away. And this year, as I watched them with my 6 year old daughter and 10 month old son, I fought the tears. Not only because this was my first 4th of July ever as a single woman, or because this was Aiden's first time seeing the awesome colors and sounds (I am a sucker for babies first holidays) but because of all this and the fact I was waiting on biopsy results that would decide my fate. I had gone in for my mammogram, and before I could even leave the office they had ordered the biopsy to be done. Not a very pleasant procedure, the ultrasound guided biopsy took about 30 minutes to complete and left me in enough pain that I was wondering how I was going to hold my 20 lb son for the next couple days. When the very experienced doctor....and by that I mean old...said "It doesn't really look good" I started to think this might be more serious than an enlarged cyst....so now I was waiting, over the loooong holiday weekend, for test results that could make or break me. Just another reason the 4th of July will always be memorable I guess...