Today's OneWord: Oven

The ham was in the oven, the firecrackers were set on the table, and I could faintly hear Sousa on the cheap radio that my uncle kept on the patio. It was hot, humid, and sticky, and I pushed the already short sleeves of my blue shirt up higher, exposing raw flesh yet to be chewed on by mosquitos. My mother handed me a sparkler, patting me on the shoulder.

"Your father's favorite holiday," she reminded me. I rolled my eyes.