Children are little diviners.

Seeing people and connections that are not there.

Faces appear in the wood grain and balloons take on personality.

Oh how children love balloons in particular.

Temporary friends you can lead by the hand.

If only they could last forever.

They are in essence the first representation of death for a kid.

A lost friend.

A buddy that wastes away.

Slowly crinkling up into nothing like a piece of discarded paper.

The end of a story.

Some sensitive kids try and delay this fate.

Trying to sequester the balloon out of an open window.

A last attempt to let it fly free.

Perhaps it would survive there or enjoy its last few moments of ability.

That is what a good friend would do after all.

Even if the friend never existed.

Children are just that good at seeing the unseen.

Even the darkness in the whimsy.