I was watching the aftermath coverage of the Boston Marathon tragedy when my eyes were instantly adverted to a cluster of yellow balloons near the top left corner of my television screen. These balloons immediately flew up from the horrendous cloud of fire and smoke. While watching the footage, and learning new information, my mind kept going back to these yellow balloons: Where did they come from? Who was holding them?
I pray it wasn’t a small child, waiting for his or her mom or dad to cross the finish line. My heart breaks just thinking about such a thing.
I imagine it was a person, whether adult or child, holding them, then accidentally releasing them upon such a startling and frightening situation.
What I take from seeing those yellow balloons is HOPE. Yellow is traditionally known as the color of hope. And while I do not understand how someone could create such terror, nor do I understand how the people in Boston feel, I do understand the power of hope.
I believe those yellow balloons were a complete symbol of hope. Hope for those people near the finishing line today. I imagine those yellow balloons to still be floating high above Boston, soaring through the air like a dove. And I imagine the strings of the balloons eventually settling to the ground like an olive branch, bringing peace and a fresh start to those in Boston tonight.