Eyes On The Sky

I held the edge of the fabric high while a large fan blew the air into the cavernous inside. It was surprising how quickly the balloon filled.

So this is how they inflate these balloons?

She showed us “helpers” how to clip on the basket and where to tie the ropes. It’s all surprisingly simple and low tech — except of course for the bursts of flame that with a whoosh heat the air and stretch the fabric.

Soon, I felt the balloon begin to tug the rope in my hand. It won’t be long.

With a broad smile, she nodded. It was time to let go. The balloon quickly shot into the air, separating it from all ties of earth.

My face leaning backward in the morning sun, I wanted to be the one in the balloon. To float away, watching the earth slowly disappear with nothing but the sound of the wind in my ears.

Those of us left behind clutched the business card in our hands. “Call this number for the ride of your life.”

Yes, one day.

Later that day was supposed to be the end of the world. Although everyone dismissed Harold Camping as a matter of theology and practicality, deep inside I secretly wished he were right.

It would be a chance to say goodbye to trouble, to fear, to sickness and pain. A last hurrah to all of this.

But here I am, standing on the earthen ground, watching the orbs float in the distance. Thinking. Dreaming. One day, I’ll fly.

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