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NOTES:

WRITERS' CHALLENGE: SPRING 2008 - HIGHLY COMMENDED

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"The Yellow Balloon"

by Debbie Roome - Christchurch, New Zealand

HIGHLY COMMENDED: "WRITERS' CHALLENGE" CATEGORY, SPRING 2008

She stood at a distance observing the balloon seller. She’d known he would be there, his barrow awash with fragile bubbles; contours of foil, pastel, and neon that mingled into bursts of colour.  It was part of her morning routine to nod to him, to exchange smiles as fragments of their lives brushed together.  If only everything was as simple and carefree as it seemed. Come on, Kelly. She urged herself forward. You need to do this before the crowds arrive.

“Good morning.” Her voice was frail and child-like as she approached the seller. “I’d like to buy a yellow balloon please.”

“Certainly, Miss. Is there one on display that you’d like?” He was older than she’d thought. A grandfather with skin the shade and texture of wrinkled walnuts.

“Can you show me what else you have?”

He pulled open a drawer on the side of the barrow and revealed a jumble of colour. She dipped her hand into the smooth rubbery mass and brought out a fistful of sunshine, lemon and corn; gold, honey and buff.  The choice was amazing and she spread them in a row, running her fingers across their silky skins. “This one will do.” She held up a heart the shade of pure sunbeams.

“Good choice.” He took it from her as he closed the drawer. “Would you like me to pump it for you?”

She was embarrassed as her voice cracked, allowing emotion to leak into the freshness of the morning. “Is it ok, I mean is it alright if I slip a note inside? It won’t damage the balloon will it?”

The balloon seller shook his head. “No problem, Miss.”

She dug in her pocket and pulled out a carefully rolled parchment; a creation of thick cream secured with a golden cord. The seller stretched the neck of the balloon wide and she slid the roll inside, jiggling it into the left lobe of the heart. 

“A perfect fit.” The old man snapped the balloon over the gas nozzle and it swelled like a ripe fruit, jewel-like as sun rays streamed through transparent walls.

“What colour string would you like, Miss?”

She thought for a moment. “Cream... I think cream would look nice please.”

He attached it with fluid motions, knotting it round the neck and attaching a tiny business card. “Enjoy your day, Miss.” He thanked her for the coins and support.

The balloon felt light in her hands, a weightless bird seeking flight in clear skies above. She walked slowly down the pier until she reached the railings where land gave way to sea. The ocean stretched in three directions, wrinkled by the breeze, its hue shifting from azure to turquoise to navy. Behind her the bay curved in a rim of powdery white and shards of rock flung spray heavenwards.

That was where she wanted her balloon to go; to heaven. “I’m not sure how to talk to You, God,” she whispered, “but I want you to know how sorry I am. I’ve written a letter and I hope You’ll understand.” She arched up on her toes, a dancer on the stage of life, her arms extended high, and with a whisper of prayer, released the string.

The balloon was made to fly. Without hesitation it surged upwards, riding the breeze, soaring over the water before being swept inland. The balloon seller hadn’t noticed the imperfection when he twisted the neck closed; hadn’t notice the tiny hole that was leaking gas in ever increasing amounts. Before the balloon reached the altitude where it would crystallise and burst, it started to descend. Rigid walls relaxed as it shrivelled and after a journey of many miles, it finally drifted into a rose bush.

Marlene spotted the balloon the next morning when she went out to fetch the newspaper.  A golden lump caught in the midst of blood-red blossoms. Kids down the road must have had a party, she thought as she carefully pulled it off the thorns and detangled the string.

 Her husband, Jack was buttering toast when she walked into the kitchen. “What you got there, Love?”

“A balloon. It was snagged on the roses and there seems to be something inside.” She pulled a drawer open and rummaged around for scissors. “The tag says it came from Sandy Bay Beach so it’s been on quite a journey.” Giving up on the scissors she pulled out a knife and sliced carefully through the limp rubber.

“Probably some kids fooling around.” Commented Jack, his mouth full of toast.

Marlene rolled her eyes. Thirty three years of marriage and she still hadn’t broken him of that habit.

“Do you think I should read it?” she asked as she slid out the cream parchment with the shiny golden cord.

He grinned. “I think you’ll read it whatever I say.”

Marlene untied the gilded band and began to read out loud.

Dear God,

I’ve never paid You much attention and it seems a bit rude to call on you now, but the truth is I need help.  I’m sure you know what I did; that I chose convenience and lifestyle over the life of my child. I thought it would be the easy way out but it wasn’t. Regret is too small a word to describe my sorrow and guilt is my constant companion.  I don’t know if You can forgive me, God, but please will You try?

I have to go back to college in a few weeks’ time and I don’t know how I’ll cope. My body is healing but my heart is crushed. My only comfort is in believing my little girl is in heaven. Her name is Melissa Grace, God, and I wondered if You would pass this message on to her.

Love Kelly

Dear Melissa Grace,

I just want to tell you how much I love and miss you. You were part of my life for such a short time - only sixteen weeks- yet your being has changed me forever. I can’t express how I felt when doctors wrenched you from my womb; only that emptiness and sorrow remain.

I think of you every day and imagine how you would look. I think your hair would have been like mine and would have tumbled into soft honey curls. I imagine your first steps, how you would have tottered towards me and I would have scooped you into my arms. I think of you growing into a sturdy toddler and a tomboy with jeans and t-shirts. I wonder who you would have married and imagine a beautiful young woman in a gown of purest white. I’m truly sorry, Melissa. If I had a second chance, things would be so different. I’ve asked God to forgive me and hope you will be able to do the same. Maybe one day we’ll be together again.

All my love, Mom

PS God, it might be asking too much but could you let me know somehow if You get this letter?

Marlene had tears in her eyes as she looked over at Jack. “Can we pray for her?”

They clasped hands across the table as words rolled from Jack’s tongue. “Lord, I believe you steered this balloon and allowed it to fall into our garden for a purpose. We bring Kelly before you today and ask for a miracle in her life; that she will come to understand that You are a God who forgives and cares. Bring people into her life that will express Your love to her.”

The letter was on Marlene’s mind the whole day as she cleaned the house and cooked the dinner. The next day was the same and the day after that. The words Kelly had written were distilled sorrow and regret and she longed to reach out to her.  On the fourth morning she expressed her thoughts to Jack.  “I want to try and find Kelly. I know it’s an hour’s drive to Sandy Bay Beach and I know it’s a long shot, but if I can find the balloon seller, maybe he can tell me who Kelly is.”

Jack spread his hands. “If God ‘s working here, I’m not going to interfere. You have my blessing to go.”

Marlene spotted the balloon seller at once. It was close to lunch time and he was surrounded by children with smiling faces and dripping ice cream cones. “Now this is how you make a dog.” He twisted some long thin balloons together and with a few pushes and pulls, produced a sausage dog.

“What about a pig?” yelled a child near the back. “My uncle has a pig farm. Can you make me a pig?”

Marlene watched from the sidelines until the crowd dispersed and drifted away. The sun was a fiery orb overhead and the sand was dotted with striped umbrellas and garish beach towels. Bodies slathered in lotion bobbed lazily in the sea, scattering diamonds as they splashed and played.

“You’re really good with those balloons.” She told the man as he inflated another one to add to his display.

“I love the kids. Been doing this for years now – I’m retired but this gives me a bit of pocket money.” He straightened up and looked at Marlene. “What can I do for you? A rabbit, a dog, a pig?”

Marlene laughed. “Actually, I have something to ask you.” She pulled the crumpled, slit balloon from her bag and showed it to him. “Do you recognize this?”

“Yep. That’s one of mine. It has my tag on it and this is the string I use. It’s biodegradable to keep the greens happy. Wouldn’t want to cause anything harm anyway.”

“I know it’s asking a lot, but do you know a girl called Kelly who probably brought this balloon from you?”

He shook his head. “I sell close on a hundred balloons a day in holiday season. I have no idea who Kelly is.”

Marlene pulled the rolled up note out of her bag. “The balloon had this note inside. Maybe you remember that.”

Recognition rippled across his face. “Now that I do remember. It was a young woman – she comes down here early most mornings – just stands at the end of the pier. Real sad most of the time.”

“Is she here now?”

“Nah. If you come between 7 and 8am you’ll likely catch her.”

The next morning, Marlene left home just after dawn and picked up a large cappuccino from a coffee shop. Then she found a bench and sat and prayed. The beach was deserted except for a few fishermen and the rising sun stained the waters with apricot, salmon and peach.  Just before seven, the balloon seller arrived, his wares bouncing gaily as he manoevered his barrow over sand and pebbles. “Waiting for your mystery girl?” he greeted her.

“ Yes. I’m hoping she’ll be here today.”

He smiled. “I’ll point her out if she arrives.”

It was almost 7:30 when a young girl appeared in the distance. She seemed too thin and as she approached, Marlene saw her face was washed of colour. Her hair was her best feature, pouring over her shoulders like liquid honey. The balloon seller looked across at Marlene and nodded.

“This is it, Lord. Give me the right words. Help me to say the right thing. I don’t want to frighten her away.”  Marlene continued praying as she followed Kelly to the end of the pier. The girl’s pain was evident in every step she took; the slumped shoulders, the slow gait, her lifeless demeanour as she leant against the rails.

“Kelly.” The girl twisted at the intrusion; at the unfamiliar voice. “I’m sorry if I scared you, Kelly. I don’t mean you any harm.”

“Who are you?”

“My name’s Marlene Tremayne.”   Her voice was shaky but she continued, confident that God was at work. “I came here to find you. To tell you that God does forgive; that He does care and that He loves and accepts you.”

At the other end of the pier, the old balloon seller watched as the two figures embraced and clung to each other. As they joined hands and moved slowly towards a bench where they sat facing each other. Kelly was wiping her eyes but there was a gentle smile on her lips; a smile that came from her heart. As he watched, he had the strangest sense that it was a life-changing moment; a moment where the world stopped moving and reverence filled the air. He could feel it where he stood; a holy calm and sense of well being. “Well I never.” He murmured to himself. “I dunno what’s going on there but reckon I’ve just witnessed a modern day miracle.”

Copyright (c) 2008 by Debbie Roome - do not reproduce
without the author's written permission!
 

COMMENTS FROM OUR COMMISSIONING EDITOR, Jo Holloway:
I loved this story; the way it was written, the emotions expressed, the tenderness, and the move toward healing through one of God's directed events. Very professional, and very loving, with a deep message peeking out!

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

I was born and raised in Zimbabwe and later spent fifteen years in South Africa. In 2006 I moved to New Zealand with my husband and five children. Writing has been my passion since the age of six and I love to write stories that touch people's lives and turn them towards God. After fifteen years of owning a toy store, I am now working full time at my writing and have never been more fulfilled. My major writing achievements include the trophy for Runner up to the Writer of the Year, South Africa, 2004,  placing second out of 8000 in the FaithWriters.com Best of the Best contest for 2007 and receiving the trophy from the South African Writers' Circle for the best self-published book of 2007.

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