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Part of me says yes, yes, yes to a hot air balloon ride.
The other part shrieks NO! Because we know what could happen.
It happened once in Iowa, and the photos were on the front page of newspapers.
The balloon had burned up and the people had fried. I was about eight.

I can’t, I lie, simultaneously desperately wanting to take a ride in one.
They coax, they cajole, they tease me for years, begging and grinning.
Eventually the right persuader came along, and somehow got me on one.
We were like birds, floating effortlessly in the air. The wind gentler up here.

I felt like I was in heaven, watching the quilt of the land get smaller.
The silence was the most amazing refresher I had ever felt.
A loud sigh came out of me; my stress disappeared, my backache was gone.
I never wanted to return to the land of the walkers; I was an eagle now.

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