Page 56 of Leo and His Love Bunny

“Did you bring your strawberry cheesecake cupcakes?” my sister-in-law Ann asks. She is the newest member of the family, having just married my brother Roy two years ago. She’s notbeen doing this long enough to know that I’ve been bringing them for the last twenty years, ever since I was almost ten and won an award at the county fair with them.

“Of course I brought them. It wouldn’t be the Fourth of July without them.”

Even though strawberry season is long over in Virginia, and blueberries are almost over as well, it wouldn’t be the Fourth of July without my strawberry cheesecake cupcakes.

“They were so good. And I’ve noticed that you don’t make them any time except for the Fourth of July. Is it to make sure that the entire family shows up here?”

Ann is such a sweetheart, and she’s perfect for my brother. They’re so cute together. Still in that newlywed stage before children where they cuddle and talk and whisper and act like they’re so in love. I enjoy watching them, although sometimes I wonder if that will ever be me. I know that I’m supposed to want to have a career and all that, but having a husband and family has always been the thing that I want the most.

It just hasn’t happened.

I’ve had a few boyfriends, but I didn’t stick with any of them long, because it didn’t take me long to know that I didn’t want to build a home and family with any of them. I know that is not the kind of thing that most people go into their relationships thinking, but it’s the only thing I ever think. What would this look like long term? It never looked like much, and so I didn’t see the point in wasting my time.

That’s a little too pragmatic for relationships, I know. Maybe I’m not romantic. Maybe I’m not wife material. Maybe I have to think short term before I can think long term. I’m not sure.

But I can see a future with Leo.

I try to squelch that thought as my mom comes over and starts talking about the renovations at the school. They actually had to have class outside the last two weeks of school sincethey started the renovations before school was out, hoping to get them done before school starts in the fall. All the teachers were very put out, and if I’ve heard my mom sayhow am I supposed to teach and get the children to pay attention when we’re sitting outside on the grassonce, I’ve heard her say it a thousand times.

I mention to her that business is up because the work crews come in and get cupcakes on their lunch break, but that sails right over her head, and she still thinks there are absolutely no benefits to kicking a teacher and her children out of their classroom.

I guess some people just will never look for the silver lining. Or maybe good business for me isn’t a silver lining for her. If they somehow inspired me to go to college, she probably would’ve found that a silver lining.

I’ve already heard the story about Mr. Grent, who was my biology teacher in high school, having to take his kids outside where they dissected a cat on a picnic table. I’ve heard about the smell and the flies and heat and about the kid who got stung by a bee and almost died and had to be rushed to the ER and given breathing treatments and epinephrine injections. So, while I’m still paying attention and nodding and smiling at all the right moments, I allow my mind to wander.

So, I realize that the chatter around me has quieted down. You know, after someone drops something in a restaurant, and everyone stops talking to look to see what happened. It was that kind of thing. Except we’re out on a knoll on the Fourth of July, waiting to see the fireworks, and no one dropped anything.

And then, my mom, who never stops talking, stops midsentence with her mouth open and her eyes wide. She’s looking over my shoulder.

I turn around, and Leo is standing so close to me, I almost bump into him.

My heart leaps in my chest, and I think it’s going to jump right out of my throat and throw its arms around Leo and give him a big hug. That’s what I want to do too.

He looks good, wearing a T-shirt that stretches tight across his chest and emphasizes those massive biceps that women everywhere drool over. Or maybe it’s just me. I don’t know. Anyway, I can almost see the six-pack abs too. I assume they’re six-pack. Maybe. I haven’t actually seen him with his shirt off. Not that I want to. Okay, maybe I do. Moving on. Physical aspects aside, he’s smiling at me, his eyes shining like he’s happy to see me, and I am happy, not because Leo is cut the way athletes are, but because I’m truly happy to see him. And I truly like him, not because he’s a successful hockey superstar, but because he’s a good man with character and integrity. And I like him.

“Leo!” I say, and there’s excitement in my voice, but it’s quiet. Like it is having trouble coming out of my throat.

“I hope I’m not crashing the party.” There’s a shadow of insecurity on his face, but Leo is so confident and sure of himself that I think maybe I imagined it.

“Of course not.” And then I remember that he doesn’t really have any family. “Would you like to stay and eat supper with us? We can watch the fireworks from here. It’s one of the best views in town.”

“I bet it is. Right there is Flagpole Hill. And that’s where they set the fireworks off from.” He looks over at the American flag which is flying proudly in the breeze.

It always stirs my heart to sit here and think about the signing of the Declaration of Independence. In school, our lessons always taught us that it was extremely hot in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, that summer. I don’t think Pennsylvania gets nearly as hot as Virginia, but usually by July 4th, we’ve experienced our share of ninety and even one-hundred-degree days, and it’s not hard to commiserate with those men, to think about them there with no air conditioning, with the weight of the world on their shoulders, literally.

They’re deciding the fate of the new nation, and the fate of an old one as well, and they’re trying as hard as they can to do it right. I love how so many of their decisions were based on what the Bible said. It was the book that was quoted by the founding fathers more than any other book in their letters and writings. It definitely shaped the way they believed, even if there were some of them who were Deists and non-Christians. The majority of them were moral men, who strived to do the right thing.

It makes me proud. Proud of my country, but it also makes me feel a certain weight of responsibility over the dangerous thing that they had done, committing treason by signing that paper and not knowing whether that would cost them their family, their livelihoods, and their lives. It makes me feel like there’s a certain standard for me to uphold, to make sure that their sacrifice isn’t swallowed up by socialism and government greed.

I don’t know if that’s how he’s feeling or not, but the Fourth of July is my favorite holiday of the year. I just love being outside, being together with family, and feeling patriotic about my country remembering what a risk the men who signed the Declaration of Independence were taking, and it’s a good reminder every year of the fact that my freedom isn’t free.

And it’s also my responsibility to carry the torch.

“So, sis. Looks like you got something you want to tell us,” Roy, my youngest brother, says, coming over with his arm around his wife. “Do you want to introduce us to your boyfriend?”

Maybe because we’re the closest in age, or maybe because it’s just his personality, but he’s the one who always gives me the hardest time.

“He’s not my—”

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