Shiny Things

digitalized photo by S. Auberle

SAIL ON

for Lucha 

A friend and I are walking  in the forest this morning, talking of sadness.  Even though it's spring, still sometimes you must speak of such things, because it helps to share sorrow.   Even in May when trilliums are bursting out everywhere and bright birds are at their most songly selves.   

Afterwards we sit on her porch and drink tea, shoo away stinging things, share an orange.   The sun is warm on our upturned faces, and there are only one or two clouds in the high blue.   We drink in the small peace that our talk brought.  Still, sadness remains--friends gone too soon; unwelcome change; aging bodies no longer what they once were.   

And then something magical happens.  Sailing in from over the bay comes a shiny silver balloon.  It approaches slowly, on a gentle breeze, as if it's only reason for being is for us to see it float across our sky with its simple message of quiet joy.  The balloon gleams in the sun, a cord trailing beneath.  It snags for an instant on a treetop, and then calmly extricates itself to catch another breeze and rise again, finally out of sight.   Celebrate, it seems to whisper, disappearing into the East, as once did a magic star so long ago.  Now.   Here.   In this moment which is all any of us have.    Then it sails on.  

In disbelief we look at each other and laugh, because it seems like there might be magic afoot and because trilliums are twirling like white ballerinas and birds are crooning their nuptial songs and really, in spring, what else would you ever want to do?