The other day while riding my bike I kept seeing this pink balloon. As if it were following me, it seemed to get stuck on a tree, then it would reappear.
Where did land?
In elementary school, our teacher got us to write messages in balloons, and we released them.
Like letters to the sky.
When they ran out of gas, we hoped, someone would read the messages and write to us. I imagined they would go very far, like to Kansas. I imagined another child, like me, standing in a field waiting on a balloon to float down.
But come to find out, most of the balloons just made it across the river to Alabama. I think one got to Mississippi.
In today’s targeted electronic messaging–from email to Facebook to Twitter–we get to choose the audience, for the most part.
Today I am nostalgic for a lone pink balloon, whose course I cannot control and who might land in the hands of one waiting on a message from the sky.