June 20

It begins like a Banshee.

A wild wail coming from a small, blonde haired girl in a pram. I follow her hands as they claw the air, rising like her red balloon in the sky. Her wailing rips into a scream.

Her father lets out an angry sigh and then a limp, apologetic, “Sorry, sweetie.”

The little girl continues screeching for a few seconds as the balloon shoots up above the empty shell that was once Woolworths. Her father pushes the pram on quickly, humming soothing noises like a cruising train. Her wails die down. Perhaps he has promised her something.

I think how like childhood this tiny moment is: having to let go over and over again until it becomes adult and normal.