i was probably in 5th grade. maybe 3rd or 4th, but no later than 5th. it was a wednesday night. (right now i feel like that woman oprah had on who could tell you the day if you told her a date or she could give you the date of specific, even insignificant, events in her life.) i don't recall what we normally did at church on those wednesday nights that year, but i do know that this night strayed from the norm. we moved into a different room - the one where the elders (or was it the deacons? i always get those confused) met. across from what is now the ladies room. and we watched the red balloon.
and i loved it.
it was years before i developed a love for france. years before i had the chance to go, to walk through those very same streets that pascal and his helium filled friend explored. in fact, when i first traveled to france in 1995 i felt a sense of deja vu in one particular area. i didn't think much of it then, but years later came to realize why. in my youth, in a darkened room where the elders (or deacons) met, i had wandered through those streets. i knew those streets. i've never forgotten that short film and i don't think i've seen it since that night.
but i love it. and this image looks like a memory to me.