I find myself grasping at a wayward balloon, slipping out of my hand

One that is now too far beyond my reach

If only I knew in that moment that I wasn’t supposed to grab hold forever

It, like most things has its place but will move on to make room for the next

I thought things could be different

I thought I could find something that fit me perfectly

So perfectly molded that you could tell it was meant to stay in my hands

But our hands change, and things that no longer fit will fall away

It is my job to thank the thing that stayed for a short while

To understand the momentary calm of it

But ultimately to know that when it leaves there will be more

It isn’t my job to anticipate what is coming next, but instead to hold out my hands

I will thank the balloon for stopping by, for decorating my life when it was here

I will also apologize for not always appreciating its artistry

For allowing it to often times go unnoticed

While both knowing that holding on is not helping anyone

There will be some who may think I let go too quickly

Or that I could have done more to hold on

But what they cannot possibly see is that it was never my choice

I would have tied the balloon around my wrist had I thought that would make it stay

I will now have to wait for the next thing that has chosen me

It is not for me to know when it will arrive

I must remind myself that I cannot know what it will be or when it will land

But when it does, I will be standing beneath it, eyes wide open, holding out my hands