Kaboom

It was too high, and too far out of reach for me to just pull it down, so I left the red balloon, a remnant of a moment I'd rather soon forget, remain pressed to the top of the dome. Knowing that eventually, the helium would dissipate, and down it would drift, back to earth. Then, as if it had never been there, never existed, and never mattered, life would go on.

I had been sitting so still as I pondered this, that the motion detectors could not sense my presence, and the lights turned off. Transforming the area above me into a vast and wondrous night sky. With the universe spread out before me the balloon was almost invisible, insignificant in the company of gigantic stars so far away that they may no longer even exist now as their light reached me here on earth. Reminding me of how mundane my heart break truly is.

I had never been one for love, my mind was always deep into the night sky. My childhood dreams of being an astronaut, a big dream for a little brown girl from New Jersey, at some point transformed into being the Planetarium Director at the Liberty Science Center in Jersey City. That may sound like settling but it didn't feel that way. This is the largest Planetarium in the Western Hemisphere, and I loved this space. It was not just a job, and not just a place, I felt like it was a portal to exploration that would one day spark in a young mind the love and curiosity that would push humanity forward to who knows where or what.

Fulfilled by and passionate about my career, I never thought an earthling would ever capture my heart, the way the moons of Jupiter had. Perhaps that's why, when at the age of 40, I met someone with whom I fell in love with, it felt like a lot more than just love. What I felt was greater than any poet ever described, or philosopher ever pondered. This was the type of love that makes Elton John sing and Juliette take her own life, the kind of love that makes your jaw tingle and the hair on the back of your neck stand straight up at attention. I knew the moment we met, but I stayed calm, kept my cool and waited patiently for us to get to know one another. Then, after a year I was ready to make this woman my wife.

I purchased a ring and decided there was no better place to propose than right here in the planetarium. I had the perfect plan. She would meet me here at night, after the science center had closed. Security would let her in, and she would follow a path of roses, leading to me standing in the center of the large room with the universe spread out behind me. Where I would be holding a bouquet of flowers, a bunch of red balloons, and a ring. I imagined she would run down the theater stairs and leap into my arms crying tears of joy and of course accepting my proposal, and we would live happily ever after.

The moment had come, and everything was set for lift off, all systems a go. She arrived as expected, FIVE, and followed the roses, FOUR, entered the Planetarium, THREE, stood at the top of the stairs for a moment, TWO, Then Kaboom - a major malfunction. As soon as her eyes focused in on me, she said " oh no, no, I hope this is not what I think it is." Houston, we have a problem. " Listen, things have gotten a little too intense between us.” She continued to speak but my mind focused on the word intense. “I guess I should have told you this sooner, Lisa, I'm married, to a man, and I have two children. “I thought yes it certainly was intense, but that word did not seem to do what I was feeling justice. She had more: “I am not gay, and I'm definitely not going to marry a woman." The flowers released from my arms and fell to the floor, the balloons from my grip and floated up into the night sky. As they rose my heart sank. "I'm sorry" she said, and turned, the door slamming behind her, taking with it both the light from the doorway, and the light from my life.

I've been disappointed before, but this was so much more than that, this was soul crushing, it was life altering.

My shattered heart in tow, I decided it was too painful to continue to be in this space every day, now a constant reminder of my foolishness. So, I turned in my resignation. After 10 years of being in this magical place, thanks to vacation time, today would be my final day at the Liberty Science Center. Which is why I had been sitting there staring up at a little red balloon. The last survivor of the bunch that I had been holding when my heart exploded.

Eventually I stood up from my seat, and when I did the lights came on, removing the stars from the sky, and replacing them with a black dome. I made my way up the stairs. Opened the door, and as I turned one last time to look at the planetarium, I saw that red balloon begin to fall slowly and delicately down, headed to the spot where I once stood, with my heart intact, and my optimism a bloom.

Now my love for this place was lost, lost to me like the woman who will not be mine forever, but rather not mine ever. I turned away from the dome and allowed the door to close behind me. I took one step forward, and just like the Voyager spacecraft, my solo journey into the vast unknown began.