Balloons
Last night our next door neighbor invited us to an event at their church, sort of a family night get-together. We're not members, but what the heck, they were serving hamburgers, and it was nice not to have to worry about making dinner on a day I was so busy with the garden.
We got there late, however, just before the last of the food was being gathered up and right before they took the moonwalks down. We ate our hamburgers and decided not to stay. Before we left, however, the people who were cleaning up gave away helium-filled balloons to the children still there. Since there were so few children left, Delia got a bunch, six or seven in bright colors: yellow, red, purple, green.
We went to Dairy Queen for dessert. Delia had tied the balloons to her wrist and so they bobbed over her head as she ate her Blizzard. Halfway through it, she felt a little chilly, so she asked if she could go sit in the car to finish. I felt a little chilly myself, so I said, okay, I'll come with you.
I looked at her, really looked, as we approached the car. The balloons bobbed over her head, blobs of bright and happy color bouncing on the breeze. She had a Blizzard in her hand, a treat that she loves. She wore her dearly beloved flip-flops, and a lilac blouse, and a pair of stained and battered shorts that spoke of hours in the sun, playing. And I was suddenly proud that I could give her that moment, and all the other moments we have given her. She was out for Dairy Queen with her family. We were giving her a life, a childhood full of balloons. I hope she will look back on this moment someday and agree that yes, it was good. As a parent who loves my girls with a passion and tries really really hard, it helps to know that sometimes (at least once in a while) I manage to do some things right.
We got there late, however, just before the last of the food was being gathered up and right before they took the moonwalks down. We ate our hamburgers and decided not to stay. Before we left, however, the people who were cleaning up gave away helium-filled balloons to the children still there. Since there were so few children left, Delia got a bunch, six or seven in bright colors: yellow, red, purple, green.
We went to Dairy Queen for dessert. Delia had tied the balloons to her wrist and so they bobbed over her head as she ate her Blizzard. Halfway through it, she felt a little chilly, so she asked if she could go sit in the car to finish. I felt a little chilly myself, so I said, okay, I'll come with you.
I looked at her, really looked, as we approached the car. The balloons bobbed over her head, blobs of bright and happy color bouncing on the breeze. She had a Blizzard in her hand, a treat that she loves. She wore her dearly beloved flip-flops, and a lilac blouse, and a pair of stained and battered shorts that spoke of hours in the sun, playing. And I was suddenly proud that I could give her that moment, and all the other moments we have given her. She was out for Dairy Queen with her family. We were giving her a life, a childhood full of balloons. I hope she will look back on this moment someday and agree that yes, it was good. As a parent who loves my girls with a passion and tries really really hard, it helps to know that sometimes (at least once in a while) I manage to do some things right.