Hot air balloons served the highlight of my long weekend. Sure, we had to arise before the sun . . .
We thought for a moment we were up before the Baristas! Thankfully for us all, such was not the case . . .
We teetered into the park, quiet at first; then activity began to shake the stillness awake, and the balloons began to come alive . . .
Before we knew it, light had replaced dark. The show was on . . .
I’ll admit, it’s pretty much the same every year; yet I never tire of the vibrant colors, the graceful ascent, the music, accentuated with the occasional blast of flame. But this year, especially, I was taken with the magic of it all. For a moment in time, you see, there was no death or sickness, no fear or sadness, no fires and no wars. There were only people—young and old, family and friends, strangers and acquaintances—standing side-by-side, taken with the wonder of big balloons floating to the sky . . .