The Moon’s A Balloon
by April Duchene
The white balloon waited, its head tapping the ceiling.
Waiting for the boy to come and play.
The balloon remembered when it first met the boy. It was with all its balloon friends, waiting to be chosen. Chosen for what, it didn’t know, but it did see other balloons bob with happiness when they had been chosen.
Most were chosen by little children, little children who held onto the strings happily in their tiny fists, but it was a woman who chose this balloon. When she put it inside her car, it stayed there, very well behaved, wondering what was going to happen next.
When she took it out of the car, a little boy ran up to greet her, his father standing close by. They had both been watering the bushes in the front lawn.
“Happy birthday!” the mommy joked, handing her son the balloon
“It’s not my birthday,” the balloon heard the little boy say.
“Does that mean you don’t want the balloon?” the mommy asked, smiling.
The little boy ran off laughing, with the balloon following right behind.
They had a great time together the next few days. The little boy, never letting go of the balloon’s string, would bring it along wherever he went. The balloon got a nice tour of the house that way. The living room, the kitchen and dining room, but best of all the little boy’s room, which is where the two of them slept. The balloon was glad it had this little boy as its friend.
The little boy slept with the curtains of his windows open, so, just before the balloon drifted off to sleep, it could see a big white object in the sky. Not quite a circle--more like an almost circle--and it was white, just like itself. Every night, the balloon noticed, the thing got rounder and rounder.
“What is it?” the balloon thought. “What is this thing that looks just like me?”
Days passed and soon the balloon was by itself, ignored in one corner of the little boy’s room. Left alone, with nothing to do but look out the window at the big white thing in the sky, now fully round.
“Wow,” the boy said, also looking out his window, “the moon sure is bright tonight.”
“So that’s what it is,” the balloon realized. “A moon.” And then, after a pause, “What’s a moon?”
The boy walked over and grabbed the balloon by its string. He opened the window, wanting to see how high the balloon could go.
And go it did.
The balloon travelled higher and higher, higher than it had ever thought it could travel before, and discovered…
“Hey,” the balloon thought to itself, “the moon’s a balloon. Just like me.”
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