Great Reno Balloon Races

Every year in September were the Great Reno Balloon Races. You woke up so early in the morning it felt like you just feel asleep. It was pitch black outside your window, you couldn't even see the tree that brushed the pane of glass when it was a windy night.

Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you stumble out of bed and cover your eyes as you turn on your lamp. You still wince from the brightness as the light floods the room and out into the hall. The kitchen light is already on where Mom is downstairs making hot chocolate and putting it into the old '70s blue thermos.

You reach for the warm clothes that mom made you set out before you went to bed. In actuality you haven't sleep more than 3 or 4 hours because you were so excited about the balloon Races. You have woken up this early to go to Dawn Patrol. The actual Races aren't until later in the day, but the whole event is over by 10AM.

After packing the car with the hot chocolate and blankets you set off. You pull the car off the freeway, any other time of year a very illegal offense, but police allow it these three days. Much like Mardi Gras and women with their tops off, it's an arrestable offense if done one day before or after.

After waiting for what seems like forever, you see down at the park the balloons start to fill up with air. There are always four brightly decorated balloons for dawn patrol. The fabric used to make these balloons make the whole balloon light up against the sky, with the sun illuminating the background. When you were little your Dad made a lot of money taking pictures of the balloon races, especially Dawn Patrol. Finally they are up in the air, and the effect is breathtaking. Up against the mountains the balloons are so close and yet so far away. They co-ordinate so that they light up at the same time. Your heart races as you watch these giants light up in the sky.

As they land you feel a sense of loss, for you will not see the spectacle for another year. But the chocolate is warming your body and you drift off to sleep, as does your family in the car.

The best kind of way to wake up is a little late, after the balloons have taken off. You'll never know another scene as great as waking up and being surrounded by these wonderful machines. Machines even sounds like the wrong word. Creatures seem more appropriate.

Your eyes slowly open and you catch your breath as you see them all around you. You get out of the car even though you know it will be freezing, and look at the wonderment that are these balloons. The biggest deal is that in the later years they don't just come in regular balloon form. There is the Energizer Bunny, a Panda, an Eagle's Head, a bottle of champane. Your whole family has a favorite. You search the sky for yours with wonderment.

First Memories

There are things you remember because people tell you about them all the time. I know my first word was Light, but only because my parents have told me. These stories will be about my memories, and the memories of my parents, because they are part of who I am.


My first memory was pre-school. I called it preschool, but it was really a daycare where they taught you one thing a day and you did what you want the rest of the time. I am the same person I was then.

His name was Troy. I don't remember how, but we were together. We were in love. We pulled our cots together for naps, which I refused to take. When they split us up and he stayed at the park while I went back to Momma Louisa's. I remember looking out the window as the van pulled away from the park. Tears streamed down my face and my heart sunk deeper and deeper the farther away I got.

Once he went off with a bunch of other girls for coloring time. I was in a rage of jealousy, and I was determined to tell him off. Then he came up to me, with the rest of the girls trailing behind. He held up a picture he drew and colored for me, with the girl's help. I felt my heart swoon. I knew I loved him with all my heart.

A few weeks later we had all gone across the street and got balloons for someone's birthday. Everyone decided they would let go of their balloons at the same time. I didn't want to let mine go, I wanted to keep it and show it to my Mom when I got picked up. They all peer-pressured me into doing it, but I was the last to let go. I looked above my head and watched all the balloons go in a bunch, and felt a sense of loss bigger than I had ever felt before.

I spent the day in the office, and refused to go into the daycare. They had a parrot in the office I watched all day, enraptured. This continued all week until my Mom asked if I didn't want to go there anymore. The answer was yes.