When I was a little girl, my favorite thing in the world was to have a balloon. It was my lone partner, loyal, willing to follow me into anything. Much of this was due to the fact that it was tied to my wrist, but nonetheless, it topped my list of most excellent things that could possibly happen. It was thrilling, especially if the balloon happened to be red. I would take it everywhere, talk to it, I'm sure. It was my companion.
Then I would let it go. The knot on the string would be loosened. It would float into the blue sky. I would trace its path, away. Into the ends of the atmosphere. Watching it become a distant dot. And fade away into nowhere. Where it was free.
My balloon. Continuing on our adventure, alone.