Today I drove home from my daily obligations with a red balloon bumping back and forth across the ceiling over the back seat. It bounced and slid in and out of my field of vision in the rear view mirror, and as it waved at me from the back seat, I was transported outside myself.
Suddenly, it didn't matter whether or not I am gainfully employed or that I had a hectic day, or even that I am feeling inept lately in the big scheme of life. What mattered was that I successfully wend my way home to deliver the fragment of joy I had managed to capture in the back seat of my vehicle.
In a way, it felt strange to be alone in my car as an adult woman with a balloon in my midst. I keenly felt the lack of a little girl in the car-seat behind me. I had a fleeting thought about all the accidents that happen on all the roads when all the people are going to and from work. Having had a fatal accident occur near my home recently, it is forefront in my mind when driving. My mind's eye said that this balloon was somehow a safety shield against any catastrophe. Certainly, nothing bad could happen to one who is transporting something so precious to a child as a red balloon.
This thought took me all the way back to balloons of yore, and I remembered, again, that the cares of "responsible adults" are hardly the ingredients for a slice of the most delicious pie of all. The pie of happiness, joy, laughter, and family. Having made my way home safely with red balloon following behind and found the first red tomato of the season greeting me from the garden, I am sharing a slice of that very pie this evening.