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Dearest Mummy, Your absence this morning was exceedingly alarming, as the most peculiar occurrence took place around ten o’clock. I was still languishing in bed, a regular Sunday tradition, when I heard a bizarre clamor arising from outside our house. At first, as you can imagine, I assumed it was Daddy mowing the lawn at an outrageous hour (for when it is not an outrageous hour to make such a racket?). But I quickly realized that it was not Daddy, for his footsteps began to pound up and down the stairs, belying the newfound urgency of the situation. Within a few seconds, the noise dissipated, and I arose from bed at last, preparing myself to leave the safety of my room for whatever horror was bound to await me (one never knows what is lurking around the proverbial corner, does one?). I found Daddy in the adjacent room, staring out of the window with a camera in hand. Upon seeing me, he beckoned me over to the peeled curtains, pointing animatedly to the scene outside. And, oh Mummy, what a scene it was! Peeking ostentatiously from behind our neighbor’s house … was a hot air balloon! Naturally, I waxed internally about the romance associated with hot air balloons (with the rather unfortunate exception of that wretched Ian McEwan novel) and imagined all sorts of creatures that could be in the basket. Daddy informed me that the balloon had skirted precariously near our roof during its unexpected descent. Goodness, to think that we nearly perished from a wayward hot air balloon fire! (But secretly, wouldn’t it have been quite the thrilling way to mute one’s existence?) I am still perplexed as to why the balloon interrupted my morning convalescence, but I suppose we shall never know. Unless, of course, we ask the neighbors, but this is Massachusetts! Propriety has stuck severely uncomfortable poles up everyone’s posteriors, and I’m quite unsure of how to interact socially while raised so far from the ground. I hope that, by the time you read this note, we will have uncovered the answers behind this truly confounding mystery. I daresay this is a sign from the heavens that my move back to Providence is imminent. Perhaps we could charter a hot air balloon? Only joking, of course! I would never deign to ride long distances in such a creature. Kisses, u.a. P.S. Yes, this actually happened.

Dearest Mummy,

Your absence this morning was exceedingly alarming, as the most peculiar occurrence took place around ten o’clock. I was still languishing in bed, a regular Sunday tradition, when I heard a bizarre clamor arising from outside our house. At first, as you can imagine, I assumed it was Daddy mowing the lawn at an outrageous hour (for when it is not an outrageous hour to make such a racket?). But I quickly realized that it was not Daddy, for his footsteps began to pound up and down the stairs, belying the newfound urgency of the situation. Within a few seconds, the noise dissipated, and I arose from bed at last, preparing myself to leave the safety of my room for whatever horror was bound to await me (one never knows what is lurking around the proverbial corner, does one?). I found Daddy in the adjacent room, staring out of the window with a camera in hand. Upon seeing me, he beckoned me over to the peeled curtains, pointing animatedly to the scene outside. And, oh Mummy, what a scene it was! Peeking ostentatiously from behind our neighbor’s house … was a hot air balloon! Naturally, I waxed internally about the romance associated with hot air balloons (with the rather unfortunate exception of that wretched Ian McEwan novel) and imagined all sorts of creatures that could be in the basket. Daddy informed me that the balloon had skirted precariously near our roof during its unexpected descent.

Goodness, to think that we nearly perished from a wayward hot air balloon fire! (But secretly, wouldn’t it have been quite the thrilling way to mute one’s existence?) I am still perplexed as to why the balloon interrupted my morning convalescence, but I suppose we shall never know. Unless, of course, we ask the neighbors, but this is Massachusetts! Propriety has stuck severely uncomfortable poles up everyone’s posteriors, and I’m quite unsure of how to interact socially while raised so far from the ground. I hope that, by the time you read this note, we will have uncovered the answers behind this truly confounding mystery. I daresay this is a sign from the heavens that my move back to Providence is imminent. Perhaps we could charter a hot air balloon? Only joking, of course! I would never deign to ride long distances in such a creature.

Kisses,

u.a.

P.S. Yes, this actually happened.

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