Balloons

I once asked a balloon, "Can I hold on to you?"

"No, my dear," she replied. "You have to let me go."

"But why?" I insisted. "You are too dear to me. I can't imagine letting you go."

"It is time you did. I may be a delight to you when I'm near, but I'll be more beautiful to you when I fly, even more beautiful to you from afar."

With tears and then a smile, I bid her farewell.

And I let her go.

"Remember me fondly," she said.

And I most certainly will.

T'was the only thing left to do. To remember.

Her name was "Past".