The old man and the teen

The Old Man and the Teen by Ron Dye

The old man selected a balloon from his pouch and filled it using his lungs while the teen used a shiny new pump; with a look and a wry smile the silent challenge had been given and accepted. His old fingers ached from tying too many knots in the cold; arthritis attacked his hands. Quickly the teen inflated two balloons. The old man gently shook his hand to relieve the pain; the smile never left his withered face.

The teen twisted his balloons ferociously. "Let me tell you what I'm going to make for you now," he said gathering the crowd.

Leaning over, the old man whispered to a little girl, "What would you like today sweetheart?"

The teen frantically blew up another balloon and added it to his sculpture. "Wait till you see this folks!" said the young man. "Hey old man, what are you going to make for her?"

"What ever she wants," he said.

Cheering the teen on, the crowd took little notice of what the old man was doing in the background. The youth's flamboyant movements and outrageous posturing allowed the people many opportunities to laugh, but they sometimes responded unfavorably to his inexperience. The old man looked past his wrinkled hands and winked at the innocent child; she shyly retreated, peeking out from behind her mother's leg. He moved slowly and deliberately; the balloons yielded to his vast experience. He made it look effortless. "How old are you?" he said.

"Seven," came the little girl's soft response.

"What a coincidence," he said. "I was seven when I was your age." The child giggled, and then slowly moved back in front of her mother. I think I was the only one who saw the old man wince as he added the last bit of balloon to his work.

The young Balloonatic placed his sculpture on a little boy's head, it towered several feet above him; a jumbled mess of odd colored balloons shooting out in different directions. "Pretty cool right kid?" said the teen balloon artist.

"What exactly is that?" asked the old man.

"It's a whacky hat" said the teen proudly.

The old man nodded affirmatively and smiled. He bent down and held out a tiny balloon sculpture hidden in his hand. The little girl knew just what to do so she held out her arm. The old master placed a bright red lady bug, complete with tiny white eyes and little black antenna, around her wrist. The smile on the little girl's face and the corresponding gleam in the old man's eye made me finally understand why he still did it. 

"Hey, pretty cool," said the teen when he saw the lady bug and the little girl's smile. "How'd you do that?"

The little boy removed his towering hat almost immediately and his mother carried it five minutes later. The old man had no way of knowing, but at bed time that night I told my daughter, "You must remove the lady bug balloon."