A Pink Balloon & Big Shoes

July 26, 1995                  Lark is 2 years old (nearly 3)

Dear Lark,

I am being late for work because I want to write in yours and Trina's journals.  I would have last night but you were both still awake.  So....

I am thinking of an evening in late June.  Your big sisters (except Trina) were spending the week at the Mitchells.  Trina was off somewhere playing or napping. 

You had a long pink balloon we had purchased that afternoon.  You were wearing a pair of Trina's shoes.  You wanted to be watched.  So I sat on the step and watched as you made your way past Don's house and then the next house and then around the corner.  You disappeared from sight as you passed the giant blue spruce on the corner.  Then you appeared again, looking to see if I was watching.  Then you turned and returned to me.  You repeated this little march numerous times, frequently checking to see if I was watching.  You were so proud of the pink balloon, of wearing Trina's shoes, of venturing off alone, and so happy for my undivided attention to your courage, your adventure, your maturity.

My heart swelled.  I felt so in love with you.  You filled me with happiness and completeness.  You with your blond curls, your overlarge shoes, your pink balloon nearly as large as you, your pride in yourself, your joy bubbling forth in giggles.

Then a rose thorn burst your balloon.  You were devastated.  You came to me and I wrapped you in a lap embrace.

After awhile you rallied and got on with your life.