I cried at the loss, but it wasn’t very long before I stopped crying because I knew that there were many more balloons and I would soon be given another one. And, sure enough, I was given another one, in fact I had quite a few balloons and they were also bright and colourful and they made me happy and I held on tightly and possessively so that I wouldn’t lose them. They never lasted very long though, the gas always gradually escaped and the balloons would deflate and fall to the ground and lose their fascination and attraction, and then I would abandon them.

Then one day a miracle occurred. The balloon that had slipped from my fingers came back to me, and it was much more beautiful than I remembered and more bright and colourful and much more fascinating too. I was very happy again but I worried that someone would take it away from me, or that it would slip through my fingers again, and I promised myself that I would not make the same mistake a second time. I would never take it for granted that the balloon was mine forever and, in case I got complacent again, I tied it to my finger. It was uncomfortable, but I was wiser this time and I realised that if I wanted to keep it I would have to put up with a little discomfort and work at looking after it.

I hadn’t forgotten the other balloons that had slowly deflated and died and this also worried me, so I vowed to myself that I would try hard to keep it as it was and as it lost it’s gas I would add more so that it would always soar above me and it would always be big and bright and beautiful and the fascination would last forever, and I truly believed that it would do so. So every time I saw it getting smaller I added more gas, and it was no trouble, the balloon was so important to me that it wasn’t hard at all and I became totally dedicated to it.

I didn’t take my eyes off this wonderful balloon, it meant the world to me, but I became a bit paranoid about it, I thought it needed more and more gas and I kept giving it more and more until finally it could take it no longer and it burst, and then I had nothing again. This time I cried long and hard because I knew that no other balloon could ever take it’s place.

But I did learn something, I now know that there are no miracles, only illusions, and I know that happiness is a very fragile commodity, and to keep it alive takes more than hard work and dedication, it takes wisdom and patience. But, most of all it requires a balance between reality and fantasy, between desire and possibility and without that, it will either shrivel and die or become more and more tense until it explodes and is gone forever.

So look after your balloon, don’t neglect it, but don’t smother it either.