Floating

This past June I took my first ride in a hot air balloon.

In the wee hours that morning, my oldest friend and I made our way to a random New Hampshire parking lot. A small group had already gathered by the time we arrived, nervously scuffing at the ground. All of us signed a stack of release forms and headed toward a large field where the balloon was to be unrolled, inflated, and then launched.

What I didn't realize, until moments before lift off, was that the pilot had precious little control over what we were about to experience. The fiery plume that warmed the interior of the balloon increased its elevation. But the wind currents did the rest. North, South, East, West? That was all up to Mother Nature. 

The pilot arranging the nine of us in the balloon's basket by weight, careful to distribute our girth evenly. And then as the sun began to peek out over the horizon, up we went.

Of all of the miles I have traveled, these were among the most unencumbered. No maps. No timetables. No destination. Just floating high above the trees, waiting to see what the world had to offer.

"Not all those who wander are lost." - J.R.R. Tolkien