“because of her, i laugh more, i dance more, and i notice hot air balloons,” says my friend of her two-year-old daughter, a wisp of a thing with blond hair and bright laughter.

together they walk hand in hand. donned in colourful clothes and big smiles. barrettes in their hair.

later i’m sitting in the car while my friend does her banking. her daughter and i look at each other. suddenly, the little girl begins to laugh, for no apparent reason. leans her head back in her car seat, happiness pouring from mouth and eyes. five minutes of unending giggles. her laughter reminds me of the colour of canola fields–irresistible yellow, stretched like a starched cotton dress under blue skies. mirth splashes sunshine across my face.

and suddenly i see it: the hot air balloon, rising, a bubble of colour above the horizon.

children: squealing, peeling, reeling in the big outdoors, they remind us–life is more than just a shadow.