4th of July

To this day I’m not quite sure what happened on the night of the fourth of July…I just teared up at night.  I’ve written about crying before and how sometimes it can be a good thing, however my previous post on this nature was more focused towards crying when I encounter a setback.  I cried spontaneously on the night of the 4th of July while lying in bed.

It’s an inveterate evening ritual: open my window a solid 3 inches, hop into bed and turn off my bedside lamp.  I sleep with my window open and on the fourth of July, I never fail to hear the sound of booms and blasts reverberating into my window from distant fireworks.  Sometimes I would hear a chain of fireworks exploding together. Other times, I would hear the fading sound of one lonely firework explode.  

This year though, I was listening to the soundtrack of Breakfast At Tiffany’s, which I had just watched two nights ago. Here’s where I felt tears rush to my eyes.  In retrospect, I fear I might’ve been crazy, lying in bed in the dark, listening to ‘Moon River’, replaying the final scene when the music was played in the movie in my head, listening to fireworks in the

distance, and absentmindedly trying to wipe the tears off my face.  I still don’t know whether I was crying because of Holly Golightly’s epiphany that “life is a fact” and that we can’t keep chasing after impracticable things [for Holly, it’s marrying a man purely for money, hoping inexistent love came in the package] or because the music was sorely touched me, or because I heard the same fireworks I hear once every year.  Perhaps it was a blend of everything.