For two years I lived with my father in Delaware. We would often drive back home to New York City. Leaving in the early morning to beat traffic, after an hour the sun would begin its rise in the east over the New Jersey landscape. I often slept beside him in the pick-up truck throughout the trip, but this time I was awoken from my nap. It was a rich sunrise. As I looked out from my window, I spotted a most intriguing sight. Against the bright sky in the east, a red hot-air balloon rose up above the landscape, its translucence illuminated with the rising sun. Focused instead on his drive, dad seemed to have missed the sight. Strangely enough, his missing out made it only more special -- amid the young life I was living was this confidential moment of solitude, wonder and mystery. The simplicity of this moment has never escaped me, nor has the emotion and excitement it stirred left my memory.