I knew we were in trouble when the late morning had turned into late-afternoon, and I had hardly even noticed.
The deafening bang of the door sent a jolt through my body. Signalling the arrival of the boys. With the zeal of their youth they entered the dining room, exhibiting the boisterousness of a pack of hyenas.
I jumped to my feet (they had not noticed me in the family room) and slowly slinked of to my room to change.
I took a fleeting peak out of the window. Noticing the hazy sunshine of the mid-July evening, I decided on a pale peach coordinating short-suit, paired with a pair of dark-tan coloured wedged gladiator sandals and a matching clutch bag.
“Come on, come on,” came a cry at my door – “if we don’t leave now you’re going to miss the experience of a lifetime…”
I emerged from the back-room with a zeal that had not inhabited my body upon entering it.
“Hmmm!” Was all I got out, before I was ushered out of the house by the boys, either side of me and swiftly escorted to my waiting carriage.
1 hour and 45 minutes later…
As we pulled up at our destination, I was still none the wiser about what awaited me. Over the course of the long journey, the boys had refused to even give me a clue.
“Just sip your champagne and enjoy the ride,” was all they would say.
With a newly acquired air of arrogance, we slowly emerged from the prestigious, shiny, black SUV. I looked around, and almost leapt back into the car…
How did I miss that?
“Surprise!” The boy’s shouted in unison. They looked so excited.
My heart sank.
I looked towards it.
Someone was waving and walking towards me. It was Dominic. Someone I had been seeing religiously twice a week for the last eight weeks. I walked towards him.
“Good-evening my dear, are you ready?”
“No I don’t think so. But I’m here now.”
I felt them behind me before they spoke.
“Come on mum, you can do this”, my twin boys were brimming with delight. “We’ll be by your side the whole time. They took hold of my hands and we all walked silently towards the hot air balloon.
Ever since childhood, I had had a fear of flying. It was the idea of being locked-in a flying tin-can, that did not sit well with me. I had always said, I would rather get in a hot air balloon, at least I could have a parachute on in-case of danger. (Me and my big mouth).
I heard nothing of the safety instructions. I clung to my boys and said a silent prayer as the spraying sound of the hot air being released caused us to float-up towards the heavens.
“You’re doing it mum,” they said with a smile. “Happy 50th Birthday!”
I am doing it, I thought to myself. Touching the sky. Closer to my lost love.