The garden grows by tending the root ~ Rumi
Cool air dropped from an open window onto the bed while a soft breeze rustled through the trees and a wind chime sparkled in the distance. As the waking world began to materialize, a brief image appeared in my mind. The morning sun filled a park with a soft yellow glow, casting long shadows across the grass. A child about the age of three in a pink and green dress held the string of a large blue balloon as she danced and squealed with glee like the whole world contained nothing but pure joy.
As if a new understanding had dropped into her mind, she stopped and gazed up at the balloon, tied in a bow around her wrist. She stood there mesmerized as the balloon twisted back and forth and tugged at her hand. With a sense of purpose, she pulled the end of the string, and the balloon took flight. She made no effort to reach for the dangling string, but instead, watched the balloon float into the air, transfixed in the moment.
No tears or longing or wanting, she just stood there and watched it drift on a gentle breeze above the trees, shrinking smaller and smaller as it climbed and tumbled into the heavens. Her father walked over, took her hand, and they stood and watched the balloon. No one said a word. When the balloon drifted out of sight, the child looked up at her father, and a slight smile brightened her face. They turned and strolled down the path, sharing whispers.