Presque Isle. August. 2008.
I've very rarely been to event that was so satisfyingly...happy.
The simplicity of a balloon launch is it's charm. The crowd who come to watch knows how to wait, knows how to be still, knows the pure joy of watching something as simple as flame lift human beings off the ground as gently as a breeze. Add some homemade pie and red hots to the mix and you get an afternoon of pure enjoyment, even if you are still on the ground.
I found myself laughing out loud as these huge balloons finally lifted off the ground. Something in myself rose up and floated away as well. An unrealized anxiety that I wouldn't find anything in my new home that would make me feel ridiculously good, with no reservations.
How often does that happen?
Not often enough. Next time, I'm going up.