The dog barks as he hears the puffing of the balloons as they almost pass over our house, the passengers close enough to wave to us little people below.
I grab my iPhone and run outside, already dressed early for my impending workout. My husband is fast on my heels in his orange plaid flannel pj pants. We start snapping photos as we borrow neighbors' front yards to get the best angles.
My main intent is to send a photo to my missionary in Mexico as a little slice of home.
These things matter.
These little traditions that are reminders of family time.
When we crawl out of bed to watch balls of color cast shadows on our roofs.