From the very beginning as a kid, the balloons fascinated me. They were extra special. I wondered how they would float in the sky higher and higher and where they disappeared. I would run behind them to catch them.
I still treasure the incident with the balloons. We went to the funfair in the city it was a rainy season during July or August. I saw the balloons in red and yellow color the lady was selling and shouting for rupees 2. At that time, I was a 4-year-old kid.
I jumped in the air and insisted my parents buy that balloon for me. My father bought me the balloons. My mom was quite resilient with the thought. I also bought the kitchen set for my doll. The idea of cooking with her chilled down my spine. I loved dressing her up so we can invite guests. My guests were new balloons and old toys at home. Imagining all these added a lot of enthusiasm to me. I was so naïve and energetic, holding them in my hand, but the day was not mine.
I lost the grip of the balloons from my hand that was hard for me to see them flying away from me. It ripped my heart to see that, and I started shouting and crying, holding my mom’s saree in the middle of the road. My mom got perturbed. She was angry that I was crying in the funfair and people were watching me. I was sobbing and demanding to buy new balloons. My parents declined the demand. It was because we were financially unstable.
She held my hand and grabbed me in her arms. She tried her best to calm me down. I jumped on the road again and started stretching her saree in the middle of the road. She got furious with my behavior. My father told me no more toys and balloons that enough was enough. We went straight home, and I kept crying until we didn’t reach home.
From that day, whenever I saw a balloon, it only reminded me of my mom that she too sobbed with me. The only reason was money. Before a couple of years, I was with mom. We were shopping across the streets; my eyes fell on the lady who was selling the balloons.
My mom said, “Do you want them?” and I said Yes, I want it. I purchased them, it was 30 rupees, and I was happy holding them. When we passed by another lane in the same street, I saw a small boy whose eyes lighten up in sheer excitement. I went towards him and lent him balloons. Holding the balloons added excitement to his life. His mom asked him who gave him this, and he pointed with excitement towards me. I smiled back, holding the tears in my eyes. I felt content with this. His smile touched my heart. It was a usual thing for me to buy and cherish. For someone, it was uncommon.
P.S. My love for balloons will always be special. Such incidents teach you the importance of joy in little things. Be kind to the surrounding people. Spread happiness and love. You never know what is less important to you is very important to someone.
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