The Red Balloon

As we all know and feel, the past year has been challenging. Our world is in turmoil; a worsening pandemic, political unrest, major environmental issues, natural disasters, a rapidly elevating prevalence of mental health issues, substance abuse and suicide, and a financial crisis. I consider myself an optimist/realist fusion. I do my best to make everyday life fun, and as enjoyable as possible, but damn, life is difficult right now.

I love being outside and spent a good portion of this summer and early fall building an epic fence in our backyard. The weather is getting colder, the days are getting shorter and darker, and I am beginning to hunker down for the long Vermont winter. Two of my favorite things to do are write and paint; please note that I am a novice at both. But I enjoy them, and that is what matters to me right now. I have written multiple books in my head, some short stories that live in my Google Drive, and now I am ready to be heard and seen, following a lifetime of silence and invisibility.

Please stay safe and feed your soul; after all, that's all we really have.

Warmly,

Andrea

The Red Ballon. Acrylic on canvas. Andrea Vadnais

The Red Balloon

The bright sun blinded me, and Charmin, Gram's poodle, was barking for me to rub him. He always wants me to rub his belly, and I don't like rubbing his belly. But Charmin has been home alone all day while Gram and I were at Colonial Days. I bent down and opened my sweaty, cramped fingers squeezing the red ribbon, the kind I use to wrap Christmas presents. Oh no! I immediately tried to grab it and pull it back. It was so close, but it moved so fast, in slow motion. I started to panic. The red ribbon quietly floated higher and higher in the sky behind my balloon. Gramp has a step ladder in the garage; if I can get it fast enough, I can reach the string, pull the balloon back, and forget it ever happened. No one would even have to know. And all week, I wouldn't have to think about how stupid I was to let the string go. Gram and I had a fun week planned, and now I just feel so stupid for petting Charmin. I was just trying to be kind. Every time I do something without thinking, I mess it up. Why aren't other people like this? I see other kids do stuff like this, even worse, and they just act like it didn't even happen and run off and play with their friends.

I should have tied it to my wrist, but I didn't want to. I decided to hold onto the ribbon, with its little ridges. It reminds me of Christmas Eve, my favorite day of the year. It won't be long before I start wrapping Gram's presents for everyone. She does her shopping early, and I wrap them for her during the summer before going back to school.

I'm getting so hot in this dress, I feel trapped in it and can't get out. I can't even roll up these stupid sleeves because they don't stretch and have this itchy lace on the wrists. That's another reason why I didn't want that foolish ribbon tied on my wrist; I already have this sleeve and lace that doesn't stretch, so I can't roll up my sleeves. I pull at the collar, the lace trim around my neck is suffocating me. Gram wanted me to wait here while she gets her camera to take a picture, but I'm going inside. This has been bad enough.

We've got to get going on dinner. Gramp will be home soon. It feels so much better to have on my shorts with a stretchy waist and tee shirt. Hopefully, I won't have to wear that stupid dress again. By the time Colonial Days comes around next year, it will be too small for me. Gram tells me just to relax and watch tv while she cooks my favorite dinner; her fried chicken breasts, mashed potato, and corn. I lay on the couch, and Gram brings me an orange popsicle with a napkin wrapped around the stick. I put on Little House on the Prarie and try and forget about how stupid I was to let go of the string. I will never do that again, ever! I bet Laura and Mary would never do that, well, Laura might, but Mary, for sure, wouldn't. And if Laura let go of her balloon string, Pa would lie next to her in bed and tell her that it would be okay. Everyone makes mistakes; no one got hurt. Laura didn't do it on purpose and learned a lesson. Now she knows what happens when you let go of the string attached to a balloon. It floats high up into the sky. It's free, like a bird. He would sing a few lines of a song, stroke her hair, and say, "Good night, Half-pint." Laura and Mary would cuddle up in bed and fall asleep with gentle smiles on their faces. Off to a peaceful dreamland.

For a fleeting moment, I did think it was pretty cool watching the balloon, my red balloon, float away. Higher and higher into the sky until I couldn't see it any longer. I secretly wished it would have taken me with it. I could have floated and sailed over the trees, leaving that terrible memory behind. And then it wouldn't have been my mistake. I wouldn't have to live with the guilt. Instead of everyone thinking how stupid I was for letting go of the balloon, they would have thought how cool it was that I could fly away with it. They would wonder how I did it! Did I have super-powers? Could they do that too? I tried to think about this instead of re-playing what really happened over and over in my head. It's like when my forty-five gets scratched, and my record player skips, the needle sticks and plays the same words over and over. I hate it when that happens. Now I feel stupid about that. I try so hard to keep my records safe in their cases. I pick them up with my palms cradling the edges not to touch the top of the album. I lay out the cardboard cover on my bed or a soft blanket, so nothing will accidentally touch it and scratch it. I just don't understand why it still happens.

I try so hard, and I always mess everything up. Gram uses these new things called cassette tapes. They are pretty cool, and I can't mess those up. She has a machine to play them, and we can even record me talking. My aunt Marianne is away working as a nurse. We send her tapes of me reciting all of the new tongue twisters that I have learned, knock-knock jokes, and tell her stories about what Gram and I have been doing. I really love Gram and aunt Marianne.

The machine we use to play and record the tapes is pretty cool. It's got big buttons that you press to tell it what to do. You have to push them just right, though, so they click and stay down because if they don't stay down, they don't do what they are supposed to do. You can play fast forward and rewind. Sometimes I want to hear a part again, so Gram helps me rewind it. It's a fun game that I play with myself and guess when to hit "STOP" to land on just the right spot. I don't mess up the tapes like I do some of my records. Sometimes the cassette player "eats" the tape. It's really annoying because then it gets crinkled. I carefully straighten it out and put my fingers in the little holes of the cassette tape; they have bumps, like little grabbers that hold my fingers perfectly in place. I wind it up, not too loose, not too tight, just right! I think I'm actually pretty good at it. Sometimes it doesn't play right the next time. But as Gram says, "Andy, we do the best we can with what we have." At least when the cassette gets messed up, it's not my fault, like it is with the record scratches. The cassette player does it. I don't have to feel wrong about that. I still feel so dumb for letting go of my red balloon; I wish more than anything that I could stop thinking about it.

Why did I pet Charmin? He can be so annoying. Why didn't I remember that my balloon would float away if I didn't hold it tight? I should have just taken the Colonial Day lady's advice and tied it to my wrist. But I wanted to grab it, I'm not a baby, and I held it all afternoon and in the car. I did it perfectly until right before it was time to go in the house. I didn't even want my picture taken. I hate my photo taken. I do my best to smile and look happy, but most of the time, it's not real; that just makes me feel stupid too. I really hate looking at pictures of myself. Why would I want to see more of my crooked nose? I see enough of it in the mirror. Every night I place my fingers over my nose and feel how crocked the one side is. I rub it up and down until I fall asleep, wishing that some morning when I wake up, it will be straight. I'm going to try and fall asleep now. Luckily, I get to spend the whole week at Gram and Gramp's house.