I keep reminding myself of the time that we were landing over sarasota on the 4th of july. that's the first time I've ever enjoyed that holiday. fireworks from a plane so close that they landed on my tongue when I tried to catch them like snowflakes. we tried to catch the bus down to the end of the island at midnight, but the driver wouldn't let us on without shoes. I carried my cousin across the street, she was biting a red popsicle. it dripped on my shoulder. a group of dads set up stacks of fireworks on the fingertips of the gulf. water lapped at the boxes, asking what their names were. if you stood close enough to the water and looked left and right, you could see the same people doing the same things, 100 feet away. we went back. we went swimming. we had cake.