The balloons, the 49ers and Austin

I am sitting next to the crooked tree at the top of the bluff. Austin is a city skyline in the distance, a lazy meandering city between green hills with a great blue river cutting between. I am watching the river flash secret mirror-messages to the sky. The kayaking couple make good time under the bridge. The bridge is the color of rust, an arched contrast to the flickering flat blue river.

When other people walk up, I ready myself to leave. I do not feel like being interrupted. She is carrying two white balloons with the words "Health" and "Happiness" scrawled in black permanent marker. He asks me overly excited: "What are YOU doing here?" we are both wearing 49ers paraphernalia. He should be taking her picture. She is untangling balloon strings.

So quickly, before we can think, the wind sweeps the balloons up and away. Swift, out of her hands, and there was no picture taken. We all watch them fly away feeling helpless and guilty and helpless some more. Austin still sits, lazy on the horizon.



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