Happy Independence Day.

For nearly three decades, I've found myself in the U.S.A. whenever July 4th comes around.

Each year seems to bring its own little story.

This year, I'm back in Vermont, watching the local Boy Scouts lead the town parade down Main Street.

Last year, I spent the morning in the waiting room of an emergency veterinary clinic with my dog with a deep cut on her face.

Years ago, I stood along the Charles River with my family and friends, surrounded by thousands waiting for the fireworks.

One particular July 4th that still makes me smile,
I had just landed at Boston's Logan Airport. With my rolling suitcase, I set out to find friends having a picnic along the Charles.

This was before smartphones... Armed only with a cell phone and super vague directions, I somehow found them just before the fireworks began.

Looking back, July 4th has become a collection of snapshots from different chapters of my life in America.

Some exciting. Some stressful. Some wonderfully ordinary.

And perhaps because nothing dramatic happened today, I found myself wondering what it really means for me to be here on July 4th.

Growing up in Hamamatsu (Japan), the closest similar experience in my memory was Hamamatsu Matsuri.

It's famous for giant kite battles and beautifully decorated floats, but it started out with locals simply celebrating the birth of a child and praying for that child's healthy future.

Gion Matsuri in Kyoto has a different feel and a history. It began in 9th century as a prayer for relief from plague and disaster. It wasn't born from national pride, but from a community hoping for a better future.

Maybe I'm sensing that difference.

July 4th celebrates the birth of a nation.
Matsuri celebrates the life of a community, and hopes for its future.

Both have parades. Both bring families into the streets. Both create memories.

But they point in different directions.

Independence Day celebrates an idea - freedom, independence, self-government, and the birth of a nation.

Matsuri celebrates relationships - between people and place, generations, tradition, and community.

Perhaps that's why July 4th has become extra meaningful to me.

I wasn't born into this country.
But over the years, my own life has gathered around this day.

Fireworks on the Charles River.
A rolling suitcase somehow leading me towards my friends.
A dog with stitches across her face.
Boy Scouts leading a small-town parade in Vermont.

Individually, they're small memories that may fade soon.
Together, they've become my July 4th.

This year, because nothing remarkable happened, I noticed something simple yet deeply meaningful.

Belonging doesn't always announce itself with grand fanfare.

Sometimes it grows gradually, year after year, through moments that slowly become part of who we are.

Happy Independence Day.

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