RED BALLOON

[date unknown]

I’m holding a red balloon. 

I’m sure it was. 

Red.

Green Mountain Darling,

Top of the heap,

Mama said bye-bye, baby.

Alone now, so

Where’s my sister,

Sarah?

No, not the one still squatting in 

Genesis.

I’m talkin’ about my sister.

Sarah.

You know.

Don’t pretend.

The one you promised me,

In the scribble juice

Pictures on the fridge.

You pointed, and said,

There she is.

Cookin’ up a storm.

Well.

Where is she?

Timer went off,

Roasted and rotated,

Soaked and cooled,

It’s about time she

Came on out of the oven.

Ain’t it?

I whisper into the red balloon,

And she grows up with my secrets.

“I miss you.

I miss you.

I miss you.

I wish.

I wish.

I wish we could have

Built mascara forts together

And

Borrowed all the tank tops

Or mistakes

Or both,

And visited each other on a late night bus,

No wifi,

When the heart needed its

Oil checked

Or the mind needed a 

Muse. 

But really, 

What I’m trying to say is.

I will miss you all my life.

Even though

We never met.

Sometimes I wonder

If you had all the answers to the pop quiz,

How to Woman in this World,

That I lost the cheat sheet for.

Somewhere at the bottom of my 

Backpack, turned

Inside out.

Sometimes I wonder 

If you could have protected me

From the scary boys

And the mean girls

And the green gum stuck on my sneaker.

Oh yea, 

Did I tell you?

There are holes in my sneakers.

So when it rains,

It pours.

The river rises

And floods my feet with 

Tears or tales of sisters long ago.

A land before time. 

Some promised land of 

Sorrow.

Everyone eats the granola

And downloads the app,

To help them walk a mile

In someone else’s shoes.

But listen.

I can’t even seem to find my own.

Because of these

Damn HOLES 

In my sneakers,

Lettin’ all the ghosts in.

“Mama,” 

I used to say…

“I got a song in my shoes.”

But the 

Real deal 

Situation

Tells me I have not aged

A bit.

Click, click,

No place like home.

Click, boo-bop,

No place ‘cept you.

Shoo-wop, bee-boo.

Tornado traffic

During rush hour

Tells me

This may be 

All we get.

This could be 

It.

I released the balloon 4 feet from the ground and watched it navigate to Heaven. Attached to the string was my letter for Sarah, containing questions such as, 

“What is life, and why are we here? Do you miss grass even though you’ve never touched it? Also, why does dad yell at mom when he brings home a Little Caesars pizza? Can you confirm that all dogs really do go to heaven? If so, do you think you could shazam one down to me to learn some basic responsibilities of animal care and cuddling?  

Cool. Thanks. Please write back. I will no doubt need your help with some other projects in the pipeline.

Your sister,

Hannah

p.s. if a rocket ship would expedite delivery, we can try for that next time... Lmk”