The Dark Side of the Balloon

I didn’t ask for that day to come, But it did. I didn’t ask for those words to be spoken, But they were. Why I was chosen I have no idea. But I was. ‘You’re going to kill yourself.’ The voice said. ‘Commit suicide.’ And then, Like a meteorite blazing a trail across the heavens It was gone. Only a scar in the mind’s eye remained. And the memory of that moment More than forty years ago now Still brings a smile to my face. I was pre-teens and untouched by death. Even Elvis had not yet changed me fully. My father had left long before I could remember him being a father. And my mother? She had left too, Only hers was psychological. She cared, I suppose, But she didn’t know how to show it. Only my grandmother knew how to do that. And she did. Unconditionally. Until she was struck down with mortality. ‘Cancer,’ they said. ‘There’s nothing anybody can do.’ I guess the good ones don’t have choices.