Her face is a picture.
She gazes proudly at her bright blue balloon, clutching its string in her tiny hand. It bobs about, dancing in the breeze, tugging at her fingers, trying to escape.
It floats above her head, following her wherever she goes.
I envy her. She believes in the magic of a balloon that never floats downwards, constantly floating skywards, smiling back at her.
If I had a magic balloon, what would I fill it with?
It would be silver and I’d fill it with –
- the words I wish I could say to my father, no longer with us,
- carefree childhood memories – climbing trees, chewing grass on a summer’s afternoon, soggy tomato sandwiches for tea on a Cornish beach,
- my fanciful dream of publishing a book,
- loving thoughts to send to my family and friends
and I’d let it fly free, to
- and succeed.
I watch that little girl.
With no warning, her balloon escapes. In vain she points to the sky, crying while her mother tries to comfort her.
‘Don’t worry’, she says. ‘We can buy another one.’
But that won’t do.
She wants that one.
Her blue balloon.
The one that’s filled with magic, the one filled with her dreams.
What will you put in YOUR magic balloon,
before it flies above the clouds?
Make sure you fill it with possibilities, expectations and hope,
then let if fly free, to
- and succeed…