Super Day

There once was a happy little rock.
The rock dreamed of being a balloon.
Strangely enough though, no matter how often he tried to jump, he just couldn't seem to get a hold on the floating aspect of being a balloon.

Otherwise though, he had it down.

One day a small child named Tyler found that rock.
Tyler took that rock home, painted it red, put googly eyes on it, and named it a name that it did not recognize.

That rock served as a companion and a trustee for several years, realizing a potential it had never even considered itself having.

Sadly one day, it got scratched, and lost an eye.
It felt like all was lost, it's newfound purpose sullied by sour conditions.

What my rock forgot, was that I loved it for what it was, an ear to speak into with no lips to reveal. I cared not for it's appearance as it slid calmly between my fingers. It never did become a balloon.

But in the process, it realized that being a balloon was silly.
Balloons get used and fade, where rocks are more prized for their age.
He would never be consumed by the atmosphere, or be mistakenly consumed by baby animals.

He sat contently, on a shelf of my imagination, observing from under his red coat, and oddly content with his lot in life. I hope I gave him purpose, because I certainly found solace in him.