this morning i found a red balloon, string still attatched, in the back yard next to the lavender. no hole in the balloon, no parties next door.

i imagine a child somewhere letting go and watching it soar upwards. i did the same when i was in third grade. one balloon for every ten books we read. i had lots.

we released them together, standing hundreds on the green grass behind the field. held them until they announced over the loud speaker. counted to three. gasped with delight. watching until we couldn't see but small dots in the sky.

i am hoping this balloon came to rest this way. that it chose to land in my small space for some reason i do not understand. the settling of a child's wish. the magic of flight. the end of a story. the blessing of small signs.