There is another struggle that occurs annually in my household — I want to spend every waking moment at the festival, but my husband would prefer to relax in the comfort of his own home.
This year, since it was our fifth wedding anniversary, we reached a truce. We planned to spend Friday celebrating our anniversary and Saturday at the event in Howell.
However, even the best laid plans rarely turn out the way they were intended.
So, I found myself at home on the first evening of Balloonfest, watching live coverage of the festivities on the Web at www.livingstondaily.com. Fortunately, weather conditions were not immediately ideal, and the mass balloon launch was delayed, so I didn't miss anything spectacular.
I watched a few balloons launch via the Internet, and then went outside to see what I could see. It took all of about 30 seconds of watching the balloons in the distance to be overcome with balloon fever. My pulse quickened, my heart began to race, adrenaline began flowing, and I knew I had to get closer. This wasn't a desire to see the balloons up close — it was a need to see them.
Perhaps because it was our anniversary, my husband humored me and agreed to take me balloon chasing.
He decided the freeway was the best route. I was worried because the minute we headed toward the freeway, I lost all sight of the balloons — but, thankfully, he was taking me, so I kept my opinion to myself.
Then we rounded a curve and I was treated to an amazing spectacle of hot-air balloons. There, in front of us, were a handful of balloons, with more rising over the trees every second.
Bouncing in my seat like a little kid, I begged him to stop so I could photograph the sight. He pulled into the rest area and I was out of the car before it came to a complete stop, running toward the hot-air balloons.
After a few photos, I became aware of my surroundings and noticed several other people had also pulled into the rest stop to enjoy the balloons.
It was a beautiful evening, but the whole atmosphere had a surreal sort of feel. The sun's rays were making the balloons brighter and more colorful than ever before.
Plus, the sound of the trucks idling in the rest area eliminated any other noise. There were a dozen or so of us sitting on the picnic tables, watching silently as the hot-air balloons sailed over Interstate 96.
Strange as it was to be hanging out with complete strangers, it was oddly comforting and we all knew we had witnessed something beautiful together.
We continued following the balloons into Marion Township and soon found ourselves in the middle of a hot-air balloon invasion.
Describing that experience is yet another challenge.
The closest thing I can think of is the magic felt as a child when being in the middle of an early snowstorm. Remember the feeling of being completely surrounded by large snowflakes falling from the sky?
Now, substitute hot-air balloons for the snowflakes, and you can begin to imagine the excitement of the balloon invasion.
No matter which direction we looked, there were hot-air balloons in various stages of flight, descent and landing all around us. We were, quite literally, surrounded by hot-air balloons.
I could not have chosen a better way to spend my anniversary. Thank you, Matt, for five wonderful years.
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