there are some experiences that seem designed for couples.
sunsets. long lunches. hotel balconies. and, apparently, floating through the sky in a giant wicker basket while the sun rises.
but i’ve spent far too much of my life waiting for the perfect person, the perfect timing or the perfect amount of courage.
so i booked the hot air balloon.
by myself.
because waiting for someone else to become available is a very easy way to miss your own life.
i won’t pretend i arrived looking fearless and cinematic.
it was painfully early, i was questioning every decision i’d ever made, and there was a brief moment when i wondered if staying in bed might have been the more spiritually aligned choice.
but then the balloon began to inflate.
slowly, this enormous piece of colour lifted from the ground, and suddenly the ridiculous alarm, the cold morning and the voice in my head asking, “are we really doing this alone?” all felt completely worth it.
getting into the basket by myself felt a little strange.
everyone else seemed to arrive as part of a neat little pair or group. meanwhile, i had my phone, my camera and the confidence of a woman who had already paid and therefore had no option but to climb in.
and then we lifted off.
there was no dramatic launch. no stomach-dropping moment. one second we were standing on the ground, and the next the earth was quietly moving away from us.
that was the part i hadn’t expected — how peaceful it would be.
apart from the occasional roar of the flame above us, everything was still.
no traffic. no emails. no constant noise. just the morning light stretching across the landscape and the tiny realisation that i was actually doing it.
i was in a hot air balloon.
by myself.
and i wasn’t lonely.
i was completely present.
i think we sometimes confuse doing something alone with having nobody to share it with. but they aren’t the same thing.
i shared that morning with the people in the basket. with the pilot. with the strangers who smiled when we all realised just how high we were. and now i get to share it with you.
more importantly, i shared it with myself.
the version of me who has spent years thinking some moments might feel more meaningful if somebody special were standing beside her.
maybe they would.
but that doesn’t mean they aren’t meaningful now.
there will always be experiences i’d love to share with someone. i’m not pretending otherwise. but i no longer want an empty seat beside me to decide whether i get on the flight, book the table or climb into the basket.
sometimes going anyway is a huge, brave decision.
sometimes it’s simply booking one ticket instead of two.
and sometimes it’s floating through the sky at sunrise, looking down at the world and realising your life was never on hold.
you were just waiting for permission to start living it.
consider this yours.
book the balloon.
go by yourself.
take too many photos. ask a stranger to take one of you. feel awkward for five minutes if you need to.
but don’t miss the view.
because the beautiful thing about going alone is that once you’re up there, you realise you were never missing anything.
you were already enough to make the moment worth having.
going anyway,
jen x