As a small child, he was given a beautiful balloon for his gift. He loved this balloon and he held tightly on to its string. Every year thereafter he would go out and get himself another balloon; all were different in shape, size and splendor. Each held a place and meaning to him. He held these balloons everywhere he went; never setting one down for fear of loosing it. There came a day when he was standing on a hill admiring all of his balloons that a great and silent gust of wind came up and swept the balloons from his hand. As the balloons slipped away he kept his focus on each one as long as he possibly could until they simply vanished into the big blue sky. When he could no longer see them, he saw instead just how vast that sky was, that consumed his balloons. How blue and crisp it appeared; how the clouds danced upon its canvas and how the birds manipulated the air to create flight. He felt the gentle breeze brush across his cheek. Standing in awe so long it soon became night and the sun left its mark upon the sky as it quietly departed. A mark that left him speechless and overcome with emotion. But before he could catch his breath the stars arrived and lit up the night with a perfect brilliance. He gazed on as it changed; constellations slowly taking their course on this midnight backdrop. And then the sun came again and the man turned to walk home with tears streaming down his face. Every sense had come to life...
He could smell the bread baking and coffee brewing. He could see the faces and the hearts of the men and women in his community. He could hear the laughter and laugh. Hear the mourning and cry. Hear the concern and offer encouragement. With his free hands he partook of the bustle he was now submerged within. Holding open doors, lifting boxes, shaking hands, hugging the broken, seeing and engaging his civilization for the very first time. And as he finally arrived at his doorstep, he breathed deeply and crossed the thresh hold and thought to himself~ “Finally, I am alive!”
