balloon

dear bunky,

this morning we went shopping at trader joe's, first thing. one of the employees gave a balloon to the little girl next to us, but not to you--so i went to the customer service desk after we checked out and asked for yours.

"what color?"

"yellow"

i had to tell you to look--you didn't know to watch the man inflate it for you. when you saw the balloon expanding with helium, your eyes and mouth opened wide. a full body smile. you accepted your first helium balloon with joyous awe, as if you could not believe you were receiving something so wonderful.

after seeing many pictures of balloons in books, seeing them at the supermarket, at Walgreen's, after pointing them out to me always, here was a balloon for you, at last.

all day you have played with your balloon. running around the house yelling "a-loo! a-loo!", balloon in tow, pulling the balloon down toward you, letting it go, batting it with your hand, teasing the cat with it, panicking when it drifted out of sight...

when i brought daddy home from the hospital in the afternoon (he'd been there for 4 days recovering from a minor operation, his ostomy takedown, which was a cakewalk for him after everything he's been through), you were quick to show him your wonderful treasure.

you had missed him, that daddy of yours, missed him with all your might. you were brave and persevered in his absence, and when he came home, you held out your very best offering. "a-loo!"