Life, Libertea, and the Pursuit of Happiness

in america

The Fourth of July was always a strange time for Grey. Based on his observations after living in America for several years, Americans tended to spend most of the year arguing and complaining about matters pertaining to their country, but then, as soon as July first rolled around, they were making cookout plans and setting off fireworks every single night, and it looked like Uncle Sam threw up all over the inside of every store. It was nice to see people happy, of course, but the sudden patriotism was always a bit jarring from Grey's perspective. He had to make a conscious effort every year to remind himself that the holiday was approaching- not because he ever celebrated it, but because he didn't want it to be too much of a shock when fireworks went off down the street at one in the morning.

For most of his time living in America, Grey hadn't strayed too far from Minnesota, and he certainly didn't leave the state for the Fourth; while some people surely had reason to travel for the holiday, he, obviously, did not. All Grey knew of Fourth of July celebrations was what he saw going on in Minneapolis, where he lived. Occasionally he would venture out to see what was going on for the night, just for a little while. There were plenty of places to watch fireworks, and there were usually a few parades scattered around the city, as well as some live music in areas scattered with food trucks. It all seemed nice, but the closest Grey really ever came to participating in the community's celebrations was taking a walk and observing everything that was going on. He wouldn't really say that he'd ever actually celebrated the Fourth of July.

Did he have a reason to? This was what Grey was carefully mulling over on the night of July third while he sat on the couch in his apartment, watching the news and listening to the exciting discussion about all the different things that would be going on the next day and night. One of Grey's biggest issues was feeling like he belonged. This was not his country. He was a citizen and had made a home here, but he wasn't born here.

But maybe that was just more of a reason to celebrate. Grey wasn't from here, sure, but he'd packed up what little he had and came here to create a fresh start for himself. America, as horribly flawed as it was, allowed him to get the job he'd always dreamt of having, brought him to people he felt he was meant to spend his days with, and it definitely gave him the adventure he'd been longing for since he was a restless teenager who passed the time in every math and science class by reading whatever books he could get his hands on. While others were born in America, building a life there was an achievement for Grey. He arguably had more to celebrate than anyone else. Then, of course, he thought of how cruel America could be to others trying to do what he did, and there was definitely some uneasiness that came with the whole thought process.

Luckily, Grey never seemed to have to make the decision to celebrate or not. People generally had their traditions, and he wasn't part of any of them. As he continued to watch the news, he found a bit of comfort in not having to think about what he'd do the next day too much. Then the thought crossed his mind that maybe he was, in fact, thinking too much, and ruining the perfect excuse to get drunk and watch fireworks.

It was only when Grey's phone vibrated that he tore his eyes from the television. Teaching was great and he wouldn't have wanted any other job, but being a fairly antisocial person who was an ocean away from the country where most of his family and old friends were meant that going without working all summer left Grey without a whole lot to do, so answering his phone was always a priority. When he fished it out of the pocket, Sykes's name was on the screen.

"Hello?" Grey answered.

"Grey! How are you?" It had been three weeks since school was out and the only communication between Grey and his coworkers so far had been a few texts discussing plans for the summer that would probably fall through, so hearing Sykes's voice was both strange and refreshing.