Fragile Balloon Heart

While in another town, several hours away with my (wonderful) boyfriend for a concert on v-day, I saw the woman pictured below at a stoplight. It’s a little hard to tell how incredibly sad and tragic she looked from the picture. Valentines day evening, she is standing alone on a corner being assaulted by 30 mph winds, that given her appearance should have blown her away. Skinny as a rail, very old and weathered, wearing an over-sized, hooded Carhart and holding a red heart-shaped helium filled balloon down by her waist. She was either waiting for a ride or the bus, hard to tell.

I keep thinking about that heart balloon. Wouldn’t it be nice if one could just remove said heart (you know, the emotion part) and hold it at arms length, observing it. I’ve spent the last week in a constant ache from self inflicted worry, fear and loathsome self conscious angst for no reason in particular. If only I could have removed the damn thing and looked at it from a different perspective I think it would have been much less painful. Like that woman, standing there all alone with her fragile heart and balloon on v-day. I assumed she was pitiful, but really I’ve been the depressing and unfortunate one unable to take a step back and look at pain without marinating in it.

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