a green balloon.

on easter sunday.

a shiny kelly-green balloon bumbled into the road today on my drive home, unafraid of it all: the rain, the wind, the cars.  it was going. it just had to go somewhere, and when i say somewhere i mean somewhere that doesn't really matter as much as the going.  so i swerved my car around so as not to hurt it or thwart its journey, and when i passed, i saw the balloon, wet and glistening in my rearview mirror, floating upward, out of the road, and over the sidewalk.  a gust blew it fast to the top of a chain-link fence, and my stomach clenched for a second thinking my car swerve in vain, but just as i turned left toward home, i saw that shiny kelly-green balloon refuse to be pricked by or stuck on that grey and severely dreary fence.  the last moment i could watch in my mirror was the slightest moment of the whole sequence, yet my favourite: a shimmery shimmy; a brave breathe against that sharp edge.  the green balloon is still going.

and the green balloon is still going now, i know, even though i had to drive on before getting to see its full lift, up and away, as i imagine.  while i am warm and safe and writing this inside, i send this green balloon my love through my room's watery window scene to wherever it may be.  i thank it for the brief, yet brilliant moment it shared with me, which i will cherish fondly, and i wish it the best on its adventure.  this world, which could so easily crush a delicate life such as that of a balloon, is perhaps also sprinkled with pockets of mercy and hope and goodness.  maybe one day my heart will follow this green balloon and go... somewhere that doesn't matter nearly as much as the going.

today, i saw a brave balloon going in the rain, unafraid of it all.