Before I die, I want to ride in a hot air balloon. As a child, I watched hot air balloon races over my father’s house. They were magical, and I wanted nothing more than for someone to reach down and scoop me up into a basket and into the clouds.
If I could plan my own fantastical event, I’d plan a midnight hot air balloon party. Don’t tell me how impractical it is. This is my imaginary event.
We’d meet in an open field close to sunset and be ready to fly by dark. Can you fly a hot air balloon in the dark? In my imagination, of course you can.
Hot tea and champagne would be served as well as cupcakes and cookies. We’d lift up into the night sky and see city lights in the distance. We’d tell each other stories, share hopes, and make wishes. Strains of music would float through the air. We’d sail far, past midnight, chilled but light-hearted.
We’d come down before sunrise and go home to warm beds. We’d have good dreams, and life would feel just a bit more magical.