The truth is, I love the States. I love the endless skies of Oklahoma and the way a stranger will literally give you the shirt off their back. I love Colorado, the scent of a million aspens and cedars from thousands of years skipping across my freckles; lungs expanding four times their size to hoard the crisp air. And California? Beach. Need I say more? In love with this place. I haven’t spent much time on the east coast, but I have no doubt that I’d love it there too.
For the most part Americans are friendly. Quick to laugh. Inspired enough to dream big dreams and determined enough to make them happen. Or to at least try.
I’ve been eye-witness to three 911-worthy car accidents the past few weeks and have been blown away each time by how rapidly people have stopped and run through traffic to help.
Yep, our country is pretty great.
We experienced San Diego Old Town’s 19th Century 4th of July this year. Period costumes, women spinning yarn on spinning wheels, and exploding anvils with gunpowder. It isn’t an American party until something gets blown up! We had a fantastic family time and the irony of celebrating our country with our ankles literally steeped in the dust and grass of Mexican/American history was not lost on us. The day culminated in a family BBQ with lawn games and a water fight.