Have you ever felt life slipping through your fingers? Have you ever watched what you had drift away with the wind? I guess that’s what happens to us humans, eventually.

The sun was shining bright, the skies were blue and the wind was gusting cool. It was March and me and my son were walking across the parking lot of the Wal Mart, just off the interstate in Fulton Ms. He was visiting for a week or two and I was doing my best impression of a good father. I never did feel like my best impression of a good father was adequate but we do what we do and then we regret some of it, some of it goes unnoticed and every once in a while there’s a moment when the wind is right and something unexpected happens. I’ve seen it in the movies and read about it in books but when the moment presents an opportunity, if you’re paying attention, you take it or not. I’ve always wanted to be a hero, as long as I can remember. Still, to this day, I love the idea of that.

We were weaving our way through the parking lot crowd toward the entrance. The wind was at least fifteen miles per hour and gusting to twenty or twenty-five and blowing directly into our faces. Then there it was, a red balloon, rising toward the blue sky, caught by the wind and coming straight over us. I took a short step and jumped as best I could and caught the tip of the string in my right hand and instantly heard a child squeal and begin to cry. The crowd parted in front of us and there on the ground was a small boy on his knees, his father bent over him, trying to calm the frantic child. I guessed the balloon belonged to him so I took two or three steps and reached it toward the boy. His hands were over his eyes and he was sobbing. He was looking at the ground. His father saw me with the balloon and then the boy saw it. He was confused and still crying as his father pointed to it.

I’ll never forget the look on the boy’s face. He was still crying. His balloon was gone forever, as far as he knew. “Take it. It’s yours.” The man told him but the boy couldn’t understand what had happened. “Take it,” His father said again and after a few seconds the child, still crying, reached for the string and took it from me. We continued into the store.

I couldn’t stop smiling as we walked the aisles and collected what we’d come for. I don’t remember what we bought. All I remember is the balloon and the moment when I’d automatically reacted to chance and snagged it from the sky. It was just one of those things that I might do for no reason at all. It was as natural for me as walking. I reach for things and catch them if I can. I laughed out loud when I thought of it. What are the odds that the balloon blew over me? I’m sure it was a coincidence or maybe a synchronicity. What it was to me was a perfect moment.

My son didn’t think much of it but I was beyond pleased. I know it wasn’t much but the perfection of it amazed me. My natural reaction saved a little boy’s balloon. Even now I think it’s worth writing about. Make of it what you will. I’m sure everyone who reads this will remember a perfect moment or they’ll see a deeper meaning in a simple coincidence.

I’d still like to be a hero someday.