Happy

When I think back in my life, there is one memory where I remember being indescribably happy, and content. Every year, there is a weekend when the local airport (it is really just a field where planes and hot-air balloons can take off) will allow those who own a hot-air balloon to come and take off. Usually, for an hour straight, two to five balloons ARE trying to take off at once. The memory of happiness I am talking about is when I was walking behind a long shed. the shed was just filled with obscure creations made by the owner of the field and airport. It was nighttime. it was a Friday. I was there because that was where my dad was cooking. I was walking back HOME and that night, my grandmother was coming from Canada. I don’t know why, but in that moment, I felt a feeling of perfect happiness and contentment.