There was only one launch left for the day.
The bird was cupped in my hands, a small wren. “You’re about to go on a flight, little one,” I cooed, “but you’ll be flying on different wings.”
I began to hurry as I saw the sun, the golden sky-egg yolk, slide closer to the horizon. I could see the hot air balloons, amassed, waiting on the cliff edge. Mine would be there waiting too.
It was a great service, the hot air balloons. The Dearly Departed Flight Company sponsored these Memory Launches. Only two a day, once at dawn, once at sunset. I had never missed one since I’d been here.
The Living only remember you for so long...launch them a memory, and they’ll remember your heart-song.
Sunshine spilled all around me, aureate and silent. Light was a memory too, touching us all with forgotten nostalgia.
I ran up to my balloon. It waited for me wordlessly. Hopefully.
I kissed the top of the bird’s head, placing it gently in a small nest in the basket of the balloon. “You need different wings where you’re going.”
The bird knew. Knew its purpose.
We, the Dearly Departed, all stood silently, waiting for the last of the light to extinguish, the first breath of night giving soft flight to the awaiting balloons and their heart-songs, nestled in safely for their journey.
*****************************************
The earth cradled his feet on the forest path. Sunlight spilled onto his shoulders, the memory of light. He heard a wren call in the tree above him. He stopped and looked skyward. Old eyes, old sky.
She always did love wrens, he thought, smiling continuing on his journey. He thought of her daily.
The bird was cupped in my hands, a small wren. “You’re about to go on a flight, little one,” I cooed, “but you’ll be flying on different wings.”
I began to hurry as I saw the sun, the golden sky-egg yolk, slide closer to the horizon. I could see the hot air balloons, amassed, waiting on the cliff edge. Mine would be there waiting too.
It was a great service, the hot air balloons. The Dearly Departed Flight Company sponsored these Memory Launches. Only two a day, once at dawn, once at sunset. I had never missed one since I’d been here.
The Living only remember you for so long...launch them a memory, and they’ll remember your heart-song.
Sunshine spilled all around me, aureate and silent. Light was a memory too, touching us all with forgotten nostalgia.
I ran up to my balloon. It waited for me wordlessly. Hopefully.
I kissed the top of the bird’s head, placing it gently in a small nest in the basket of the balloon. “You need different wings where you’re going.”
The bird knew. Knew its purpose.
We, the Dearly Departed, all stood silently, waiting for the last of the light to extinguish, the first breath of night giving soft flight to the awaiting balloons and their heart-songs, nestled in safely for their journey.
*****************************************
The earth cradled his feet on the forest path. Sunlight spilled onto his shoulders, the memory of light. He heard a wren call in the tree above him. He stopped and looked skyward. Old eyes, old sky.
She always did love wrens, he thought, smiling continuing on his journey. He thought of her daily.
