balloons

For grief has always been so dear to you that you would make me writhing in pain in the brothel of your imaginations than to be playing with a bunch of balloons in the yard where I should have been.""And may be that's why, you'd rather talk to me about this, than to write a story about me where I could live happily.

She likes to write messages on balloons and send them to the sky. She takes out a black Magic Marker and she starts writing on the dozen or so balloons, one for each member of our family who died. She doesn't think she can write well and asks me not to read her notes.She likes to think they'll soar all the way to heaven. I think she knows they end up tangled in power lines or deflated in a pile of orange leaves in someone's backyard miles away, but I can never bring myself to say that to her. I've often wondered what they must think, those people who find our balloons. I've wondered if they read the messages and understand what they mean.I remember watching those balloons as a little boy, each fall, wondering if someday I, too, would be nothing but a balloon in the sky, soaring toward the sun until I began to fall slowly back to earth and into the hands of a stranger.

Being forgiven is like having all the worst bits of yourself stuffed into a balloon and then having that balloon set free.

In depression, buy gas balloons; they would make you feel lighter.

I want you to send a hundred red balloons up into the sky every Fourth of July and make everyone who sees them wonder what the story behind them is all about. Let me live on inside of a made up story, Callum Andrew

The best part of the gospel is you get to take it with you wherever your heart lands.

You always had it in you to create miracles, but you forgot that it required you to do the opposite of what you are doing now.