Kids' independence explodes onto Independence Day scene

The booms still rattle our rib cages. We still ooh at those fireworks that cascade across the heavens. We continue to ahh at the rockets that whistle and dart above the crowd. But we don't need those massive, all-white fireworks lighting up the crowd below to know that something is missing.

For the first time in 15 years, my wife and I watch a fireworks show without our kids. This Independence Day celebration marks our boys' independence from us.

My wife and I recall the time we, as new parents, braved the crowds and the madness to take our twin boys, Ross and Ben, in their baby carriers to the Grant Park fireworks show in Chicago. We remember how we carefully covered the ears of Will, our youngest, for his first fireworks show in the suburbs. We fondly look back at family vacations sitting on a blanket and eating ice cream to watch the fireworks in Michigan, or dividing our attention between the explosions echoing in the mountains and the panicked horses racing around their pasture during that 4th of July spent in Colorado.

This year, Will, now 11, takes in the fireworks with a great buddy and a bunch of strangers at a YMCA camp in Michigan. Aside from a rare business trip or an extended family crisis, my wife and I have never spent more than two or three nights away from our kids. This camp lasts two weeks.

We make the four-and-a-half-hour drive to the camp, walk the grounds and carry duffel bags into the Featherstone cabin where Will chooses the top bunk above his friend, Benny. Will gets swept into the camp life before we have a chance for a long goodbye. Reassuring nods and waves replace what would have been an embarrassment of hugs and kisses.

My wife and I leave a letter for Will with a counselor so he'll have something from home to open on his first day of camp. We come home and immediately write Will a second letter, which will be delayed because of the holiday. We log onto the camp's website and pay a small fee to look at the day's photos. Will looks as if he's smiling in one photo. In the shot of boys eating, Will's plate seems to be devoid of vegetables, and we speculate that isn't because he gobbled down all the greens first.

My wife, always sentimental but usually sensible, reminds me that Will no doubt is fine and having the time of his life. After all, she had a wonderful time at overnight camp as a kid. I still feel a sense of loss for not being allowed to attend the Rick Mount basketball camp when I was Will's age. I agree that Will will have fond memories of this Independence Day weekend at camp. It's just that we miss him.

We'd probably miss Will more if we weren't so busy keeping track of our teenagers. While we celebrate life and liberty in the suburbs with other adult friends, Ross and Ben, now 14, are off in the pursuit of happiness. Once content to sit with their parents for fireworks, Ross and Ben have party options to weigh.

When they were preschoolers, my wife and I dutifully investigated all play dates and parties. We introduced ourselves to parents and even went so far as to ask if there were guns in the home. Now that our sons are going to be high school freshmen, we often just get a last name, ask friends of friends of their parents and maybe even check out a Facebook page before giving our blessings.

Ben watches the fireworks from an apartment roof. Ross watches them from the high school. Knowing I have to get up for work, I walk home early to a dark and locked house. Getting ready for bed, I look at the clock and know that Taps has been played at Will's camp and lights are out. Ben arrives soon, catching a ride from parents at his party. My wife drives home minutes later. She calls Ross' cell phone to make sure he walks home well before the 11 o'clock curfew.

And I fall asleep, realizing that independence is a concept worth celebrating, even if you aren't quite ready to embrace it fully.