hot air balloons

“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.



  1. Teneale said,

    July 30, 2009 at 2:02 pm

    Sometimes I wish I could still think like a child. Find the joy in all the little things, not even know what the word stress means, laugh at nothing and love unconditionally. I bet in heaven we will all be babies.

  2. July 31, 2009 at 9:55 pm

    we lost a kite to the wind last week. Watching it rise higher and higher into the prairie sky, sail faster and farther across the wheat field, almost more delightful than holding on to it. Kids teach us to let go… and laugh.

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