Helium balloon

I hold on tight to the end of the thread that has delicately wrapped itself around the mouth of the grey helium balloon. The other end of the thread has coiled around four of my fingers leaving slight abrasions from holding too tight. I waddle down a boulevard of green luscious trees and feel the autumn breeze run its fingers through my frizzy hair.

Everything around me seems to be singing a melancholy song about death and doom. Everything I touch seems to lucidly tell me about the impending death that follows. My cheeks start to burn as the crisp wind harshly brushes against my cheek and I hold on tighter to the end of the thread making sure the wind doesn’t take away my balloon. I have tiny ridges and cuts on my fingers because of the aggressive tugs and pulls. At times it stings, the wound gets raw till it is sore, but under no circumstance do I let go of the balloon. How can I let it go?

This helium balloon is so full of memories- beautiful and warm memories of you, memories of all the unconditional love. It is the kind of memories that warm your soul- deep within. It is all I have left of you now, all stored up inside this airy symbol of love. Sometimes, I breathe in a little helium to remind myself of that forgotten love and I feel the rush of nostalgia. It’s an amalgamation of flashbacks, pictures, hugs, kisses, and sunsets that make me feel euphoric for a minute. For a second, I feel I am back in those moments sitting by your side in Pjs watching reruns of our favourite shows or lying under the pristine sky and laughing innocently at the passing clouds. But unfortunately, the harsh universal truth is that every good thing must come to an end, so did we. It feels complete for that one second to reminisce before reality slaps me really hard because then the toxicity seeps in. It is a feeling that corrodes you from within leaving you with nothing but bone-chilling memories of hurt, pain, and anger.

I am not sure whether I miss you or the idea of you. I am not sure whether I miss you or the memories of you. I finally realized that no matter how hard I try the moon will never turn blue; it will never change its ways, it is going to be the same - this beautiful unchanging celestial body.

I stare into oblivion and wonder- Are you holding on to a grimly grey balloon as well, my darling?

But it struck me that the more I held on to this balloon, the more I was in turmoil. Every time the balloon tried to get higher and escape my grip, I would bring it down with a jerk because of my unwillingness to let go. That is when it hit me the cuts on my fingers were not caused because the balloon tried to fly higher it is because I kept pulling it back.

So I did the impossible - I let my balloon free. I let our memories go. It escaped my grip within seconds and rushed towards its freedom as if it wanted to get away from me. I watched it soar high into the sky until I could only see a dot. It was immature of me to expect the balloon to come back to me but the fact that it didn’t deter once in its path of flight spoke volumes.

I walked back home in a despairing gait, taking long deep breaths and having the autumn breeze fill my lungs to its fullest capacity. Just when I was about to turn around the curb that led to my house, I noticed a bunch of colourful bouncy helium balloons tied to the end of a bicycle. The balloon vendor stood next to the bicycle filling up balloons, attracting the toddlers playing in the park nearby. One bright purple balloon stood out extravagantly from the bunch, bouncing up and down like a child jumping in joy. I shuffled through my pockets to find some spare change to buy the balloon but stopped in my tracks. I smiled at the beauty of this form of happiness for a few seconds, watching it sway with the fierce wind. I changed my mind and turn around to walk back home and told myself - Maybe some other time. Maybe when I am ready again.

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Photo by Ankush Minda on #Unsplash