Into the Sky

There are certain things in life we take for granted… some things we don’t know we have until they’re lost. I guess you could say that the greatest love is of people, not things. Yes, this is true… but I was five and I didn’t know any better. One day, I lost my balloon. And as I watched the little red dot float into the sky, I tilted my head back, and for a moment all I could see were my own tears.
I can still smell the familiar spring leaves, and hear the rush of boulder creek as it would flow under the bridge. Sometimes, it’s as if I could hear the silence. Sometimes, it’s was as if there was no one else in the world. This was the sanctuary in which I would return to year after year, but here I will just focus on one year, the year I got that red balloon.
My mom and I walked through the streets, closed off for small vendors. I was quite content as we walked in silence, my hand holding hers and, since I was so much shorter than her, my arm was stretched to its full length in order to get a grasp on her fingers. I was wearing a shirt striped with red and white. For some reason it was my favorite, even though it gave me the impression of a large candy cane. As we strolled through the sea of families hurrying by and the smell of cheap perfume and popcorn invaded my nose, I was shocked at the number of people. A majority of them were small children tagging behind their mothers, or sitting joyfully on the shoulders of their fathers. We passed many small tents sheltering stands selling items ranging from shirts to homegrown tomatoes.
As we walked on, we passed by an old man clutching a handful of balloons. His hands were wrinkly and littered with freckles, his eyes were set far back into his head, and he had but a few small wisps of white, soft, hair. His legs were so gangly, and his back was so hunched, that I’m surprised he could still stand. He smiled at me, and asked if I would like a free balloon. Since I was small, I didn’t stop to think about the kindness of this man to spend his free time giving out balloons. I looked up at the colorful array and decided, since there was only one red one, that that was the one I wanted. I thought maybe… If I have a different colored balloon than everyone else I will be special, maybe I will stand out. I stood and rocked shyly back and forth from my heels to my toes and silently pointed at the balloon I had selected. He handed it to me with a smile. I quietly thanked him and walked away. When we were out of sight, I grinned and grasped the balloon between my two tiny hands and listened to the squeaky noise it made when I rubbed it. When I looked closer, I could even see my own stretched reflection. I ignored my mom telling me to tie it around my wrist so I wouldn’t lose it, and continued walking.
During the next two or so hours, we ate rainbow dippin’ dots, and laid in the grass on our stomachs, watching people go bye. Suddenly, I noticed a baby ladybug crawling on one of the blades of grass in front of me. Fascinated, I reached forward to grab it. As I examined the small bug wandering up my finger, I realized I was missing something, my balloon. I jumped up and looked left, then right. No balloon. Then I looked up… and all I could see of it was a small, red speck, floating farther and farther into the sky. My eyes filled with tears, and I plopped down next to my mom, I tapped her arm and pointed into the sky. She tried to comfort me and make me feel better by telling me maybe it would find a home with the stars. I smiled, but still didn’t feel any better. In an attempt to cure myself of this sadness, I imagined myself in the place of the balloon. Suddenly, I was floating away in a pure blue abyss. The wind whipped around my face as I grinned around happily. Everything went well until I looked down between my feet, and I watched the ground get farther and farther away. I scanned the scene until I saw myself standing there with my arm outstretched, looking horrified. I struggled to get down but no matter what I tried to do I drifted even farther away into the sky. I shook my head and blinked a few times… back in reality. After I was in my right mind again, we continued searching for a new balloon. We even went back to the place where the old man had given it to us, but the man was gone. I had never loved or wanted my balloon as bad as the second I saw that I couldn’t have it.
Events like these have proved to me that I need to appreciate what I have, while I have it. Not only when it’s gone. I’ve tried to not only just want new things, but to think about what I have. It’s amazing how our troubles now are about losing people who are dear to us, or even of losing ourselves. Now that I look back at when I was little, I miss it… in a way. I miss not having to worry about anything, and being able to run around barefoot all day. I miss not worrying what people think about you, or what you look like. I miss the time when the biggest thing you have to worry about is losing a small red balloon.