It was your very first birthday party. There was a blue
frosted boat cake with a candle, and singing, and presents, and the noisy joy
of running children, and even Grandma. Your world was a merry one that day,
hands dug into chocolate cake and ice cream, hugs from adoring family and
friends. But your whole world stopped when one red balloon was snipped from the
bunch and handed to you. You were hooked.
Eyes wide, face turned up, floating somewhere between awe
and glee, you held on for sheer joy. It bobbed and danced, played peek-a-boo
and tickled your nose, and followed you wherever you went. You wouldn’t let go.
The party faded, for this was all you ever wanted and
didn’t know it till now.
Funny how perfection can sneak up on you like that. You
look over your shoulder just to make sure it’s still there. It is, and you glow
rosy with it.
Oh, the wonder of first love – your heart captured on a
string and lifted straight up as if by magic. You hold on and on, and this is
pure happiness, and why would anyone ever let go? No, nothing compares to this
singular balloon. Nothing compares to the weightless delight of one year old
love.
~lg
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