The Balloon

I was just watching TV and saw a commercial for a local street fair in a nearby town that my family has been to before. All of the sudden a forgotten memory of my daughter, Margareta, popped into my head. What a wonderful, unexpected gift.

We had gone to the street fair about four months before she died in 2009, when she was 3-1/2 years old. I remember our family walking along looking at booths and stores when we got sucked into a local toy store. Margareta loved most toys, but stuffed animals and puppets were her favorite, which is what she gravitated to.

After a little while, I recall that we saw a little pony ride with miniature ponies on a side street. To my knowledge, Margareta had never been on a pony ride before, so we decided to let her go on it. Boy, was she happy. Her eyes were beaming and her smile was as wide as the Cheshire cat.

Afterward, we continued walking up the street. We saw a booth that was giving away balloons and got a white one for Margareta. As we were walking away, I wanted to tie a slip knot on the string and put it around her wrist so it wouldn’t fly away if she let go. Being her normal strong willed self, she refused. I was stern in my warning that if she refused and accidentally let go and lost it, we would not go back and get her another one.

Saying that my daughter was headstrong would be an understatement. When I was telling her this, I was leaning down so that our heads were on the same level. She looked me straight in the eyes and with a serious expression, purposefully let the balloon go. Honestly, I don’t know exactly what she was trying to prove, but she was very deliberate in her actions.

I don’t remember her crying, but as we walked on, she was sullen and unpleasant, and it was obvious that she was testing my resolve. The rest of the memory is fuzzy, but I do remember this: she ended up getting another balloon! Apparently she won that battle with me.

Not every memory of my daughter is a sweet one. She was a normal child, and mixed in with the wonderful times were difficult times. We had our frustrations as well as our love and fun. But now, every memory up until the day she died is precious to me because it is all I have left. I am very, very happy to have gotten this one back.

Submitted by Maria Kubitz in loving memory of her daughter, Margareta Kubitz.