Ah, much better. Five floors above the Bottom, I took in the neighborhood activities: a CSX train clacking along, plywood progress at the building-to-be across the street, helicopters whapping to and from the medical center.
Then I noticed the balloon, heart-shaped Mylar with a tail that had once tethered it somewhere. It was probably an escapee from one of the signs that our local apartment management companies use to entice renters.
I watched as the balloon wafted along, sailing higher as it moved northeastward with the spring wind. At first I wondered where it would go down, thinking about the danger balloon litter poses to wildlife. Then I wondered if a balloon could cause any harm if it encountered the rotors of a helicopter.
Heavens, Jody! I scolded myself for concentrating on the worries rather than the flight. Yes, eventually this balloon would become ugly litter, maybe even dangerous, but for the moment it was a pretty red heart bouncing in front of my eyes.
I watched it until it became a speck indistinguishable from the floaters in my eyes. Despite my worried resistance, the red heart balloon managed to remind me of sometimes simply enjoying the moment.