"Happy 21st Birthday" read the shiny silver balloon expanding to block my view of the Farmer Jack employee’s face. I got that one and a purple one. The employee knotted lengths of colored curling ribbon around each and attached plastic animal anchors. I wrestled the balloons into the car and headed back to the apartment.

I let them float to the apex of the angled ceiling in the corner of the room while I filled out the card and folded the paper crane. I wrapped both items in Saran-wrap, punched a hole through them, and strung them on the ribbons. The balloons lifted towards the center of the room. The strange little airship passed its test flight.

The balloons bumped against the wall as I strode down the stairs and into the back yard. June 6, 2004, was a sunny day with wispy clouds breezing by. Gazing skyward, I took a deep breath and released it at the same time as the balloons. The crane and the card might have been heavier than I thought, for the airship didn’t soar like I had envisioned. It drifted away at a slow 45 degree angle, ribbons twining around each other like dancing snakes, balloons bonking heads, cargo flailing behind. It barely cleared the wires and disappeared over the trees, headed towards Dexter.

Happy birthday, Dan. My lips moved, but no sound came out.