I know this really looks creepy, sort of like Minnie Mouse at age 68, but I became intrigued with this mylar balloon that Jeff brought in from the backyard last night. He was ready to pitch it, but I wanted to keep it so I could write about it today. Why, you ask, as did he! Because I always wonder where helium filled balloons that escape into space end up. I've had them slip from my grasp and I know my kids have been brokenhearted when that's happened to them. I remember wanting to tie the string around Alee's wrist but relented when she didn't want me to do that, and then seeing her little hand open up and watching the balloon fly away. Oh my, lots of tears.
So I think about the adventure this balloon has had, including having to pose for me so I could take this picture. I wonder about the little girl who let go of the balloon. Why was she given the balloon? What was she celebrating? Had she just received it, or had she grown tired of it? And, if the balloon could talk, what would it say about its hopefully amazing journey before landing in our back yard?
I think we are all always on journeys, some that we choose to take and some we find ourselves swept up in without ever having consciously made the commitment to travel that particular road. And, why does one journey end, as another or others take its place? I don't know, but this poor tired balloon surely sparked my imagination!
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