All my life, it was her and me. Jasmine and McKenzie Bowling. The Bowling sisters.
One day our parents took us to a parade and we each got a balloon. I freakin' love balloons. I tied the string around my wrist so it wouldn't escape.
We had balloons. The sun was shining. It was a good day to be alive.
But Jazzy's balloon got away. It was sudden and not a little tragic. We watched as it abandoned her grasp, floated away into the choppy currents with no remorse and without looking back.
She was sad now, I could tell, even if she was being quiet and brave. And here I was, balloon bobbing from the string tied to my wrist, no reason to not go on having the most amazing day.
But here was my sister. Here she was.
There was nothing to do but loosen the knot, wriggle my hand free of the loop, and let go. My balloon floated up, and by some insignificant miracle, joined my sister's. We watched as they floated up and off, and disappeared into a cloudless blue.
It was good thing, I could tell.
Driving home we felt good. It had been the most amazing day. "Maybe," I thought, "when we get home, we'll eat lunch, and maybe then we can play. And after that we'll eat dinner, and maybe watch TV or draw. Then we'll go to bed, and I'll sleep in her bed again tonight because I get scared, but we'll secretly be awake, and we'll make shadows on the walls with the light through the windows from the street lamps outside until suddenly we're asleep without even knowing."
Original illustration by Isabella Rotman
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