Balloons. . .

Walking on the Upper West Side today, I couldn't help but notice the shiny, colorful, and very much inflated balloons ahead of me.  The woman in font of me struggled to hold the handful of balloons as the brisk breeze picked up.  It made me think about Carrie Bradshaw of Sex And The City & an image of  her carrying red balloons near the Brooklyn Bridge. I recalled the image before googling it, with her hair blowing in the breeze, smile on her face, and her care-free demeanor. I thought about how I couldn't have felt more different than the Carrie Bradshaw image I visualized. In this moment, I felt defeated, sad, broken, and reminiscent of my life, even one week ago. It wasn't a surprise. I knew my sadness originated over the loss of a man in my life, that some colleagues appropriately named, "Mr. Big." He was my Mr. Big, --that smoldering, unattainable, charismatic, and beautiful man, who called whatever it was that we even had (if anything), quits a few days ago.  Suffice it to say, I didn't share the celebratory sentiments that the woman holding the balloons felt.

In the Carrie Bradshaw world above, maybe Mr. Big was right in front of her (not in this picture), along the pier, prompting her smile as she neared him. In my world today, in the brisk 40 degree, March breeze, I could only wonder when the smile which graced Carrie's face, would grace mine again. Instead, I felt the cold breeze on my cheeks and the bright sun in my overly sensitive eyes, likely from crying.  

When it comes to life and love, why do we believe our worst reviews?-Carrie Bradshaw, Sex & The City