I love helium balloons. This is not a part of my second childhood, because I never had them in my first childhood. We began buying balloons for the grandchildren, but I’m sure I took more delight in them than they did. This past season I had two for my birthday on December 22nd, and they were banned – BANNED!!!! — for Christmas. And this is from a family that prides itself on celebrating a birthday for a whole month! I enjoyed my marvelous balloons exactly two days before they were removed. In all fairness, I must add that sister Barbara and Thom threw a surprise party for me on the 19th, and it was fantastic. However, the subject here is balloons.
Thank heavens my family is not sadistic and did not demand that I kill the balloons. The floaty objects of joy moved to my bedroom. They kept me company while I used the computer and stood sentinel during the night. The big Christmas tree balloon took over the dining room on Christmas Eve, and it was relegated to the bedroom on New Year’s Eve to make room for the last one of the year. Now I have all four to myself. I enjoy the company, even when they just hang there. It’s fun to walk among them, ducking under two to get to the dresser. When the heat blows, the balloons come alive, dancing on their ribbon tethers. They twirl, bob, nod to each other, and retreat. With a little music, they could be ballroom dancers.
I wanted to pose the balloons for a formal portrait, but the heat was on. The camera called for action, “Video!”
I shall complain no more, because I will keep these balloons until they sink to the floor. It could be days. It could be weeks. Party on!