By Jessie Oliveros
The one where every memory is a balloon, and a boy watches his grandpa's balloons drift away, one by one.
James has a bunch of balloons, and so does everyone in his family, because each balloon is a memory. Mom and Dad have lots. James has a few. But Grandpa has the most and the very best, a huge shining bunch of them. Grandpa's balloons hold Dad as a little boy, and Grandma on their wedding day, and one silver balloon that James loves most of all, the fishing trip that was just the two of them. Then Grandpa starts to lose his balloons. They slip off his wrist and float up and away, and he doesn't even notice, not even the silver one. James is angry and sad. It isn't fair. But Mom helps him see that the memories aren't gone for good, because Grandpa has handed James so many balloons over the years that now it's James's turn to hold them and to give them back, one story at a time.
The balloon idea does something no plain explanation can: it makes an invisible loss visible, so a young child can see what's happening to Grandpa and understand why it hurts. And it lets James be furious about it, which is honest. Children are allowed to be mad that this is happening to someone they love, and the book never scolds him for it before turning him gently toward the comfort of carrying the memories forward.