Mullis: Nothing says 'home' like backyard balloons

I've noticed how long you've lived in Battle Creek is inversely proportional to how ga-ga you get over hot-air balloons. My kids have lived in Battle Creek most of their lives. A hot-air balloon warrants a point and a smile. I have not. A hot-air balloon warrants a crazed search for my camera and a desire to tell everyone.

I find this holds true for animals, too. My dearly departed dog was a Battle Creek transplant and treated hot air balloons like an alien invasion. My new puppy was born in Battle Creek. During this summer's balloon races, dozens of those gorgeous globes soared over my neighborhood's rooftops. I ran around taking pictures. My puppy ran around chasing his tail.

Recently, I was walking my puppy around the neighborhood. He is getting better on the leash, so when my cellphone rang, I took the call. Over my friend's cheerful greeting, I heard it.

Hiss! Hiss! Hiss!

Immediately, I looked up. A hot air balloon rode low in the sky. I resisted the urge to take a picture. First, my camera was currently serving as a phone. Second, my dog was doing his business on my neighbor's grass.

Cleaning up his business while responding to my friend, I heard another hissing. This one seemed louder, like there was a balloon near the ground.

A few neighbors emerged. Battle Creek folk may be accustomed to balloons, but they still love them. A neighbor rode past me on a golf cart.

“Did you see where it landed?”

Between the phone, the dog and the poop bag, all I could do was shrug.

Hiss! Hiss! Hiss!

Then I saw it. A giant hot air balloon peeked from behind a nearby garage. It was so otherworldly, I took the phone from my ear and snapped a picture, my friend none the wiser.

More neighbors arrived.

My dog may not care about balloons but he loves people. Really loves them, in a not-very-well-behaved way. I gripped the leash tighter, telling my friend we had a balloon situation.

She laughed, recounting a recent balloon sighting. Nothing short of Frosted Flakes unites this town like balloon stories.

Kids started to arrive on bikes. I tugged my dog past them, his tail doing 360s like a furry helicopter blade. Mosquitoes feasted on my arms. My sunglasses grew slick on my nose.

Taking the back loop home, I hoped all would be quiet. Just as my friend asked a question, another balloon appeared. This one was so low I could see flame licking up the nylon cathedral. Dog straining, phone slipping, friend waiting, mosquitoes biting, I managed to take a quick picture before answering her question.

My house was in sight, but so were more neighbors and their dogs. My neighbors' eyes were on the balloons. Their dogs' eyes were on my puppy.

I’ll have to call you — get back here!

The dogs tumbled over each other in doggie joy. My neighbors laughed, as I pocketed my phone and grabbed the leash.

Back home, I opened my pictures and called my son. He appeared, eating a sandwich.

Did you see the balloons?

“Yep. Saw 'em go over the house.”

Oh.

So, I texted a photo to my brand-new college freshman. Nothing says “home” like balloons in your backyard.

Nicole L.V. Mullis is the author of “A Teacher Named Faith”, now available as an ebook. She can be reached at nlvm.columns@gmail.com or www.NicoleLVMullis.com.