Many years ago, we were walking along a miserable stretch of the Pennine Way. Once a cobbled Roman road it had become a rutted farm track; bounded by low, gray, wet rock walls. Clag was down to the ground – so some would say it was foggy. But we were in the mountains, and it was wet, chilling, gray clouds we were walking through.
Suddenly, bright color flashed – a balloon skipped onto the top of the rock wall ahead of us; bounded across the road; vaulted the rock wall to the right and then was gone. A free balloon, doing just what balloons should do – delightfully surprising wet hikers on a miserable gray morning.
I think I have been a balloon for much of my llfe. I have been free to skip and bound and explore, wandering wherever I was wont to go; sometimes popping in and out of into people’s lives, hopefully delighting them as much as delighting myself. I have honored balloon freedom – those that were given to me as surprises were allowed the float around my house until they gradually deflated and emptied.
I am now on a very long string – only occasionally do I get a tug from my grounded wife, who gently reminds me to come to back to earth…