Samuel, come here.” Sam hesitated. His father rarely used his full name unless something was wrong.

He entered the living room to find his father, eyes red and tired.“I need to tell you something,”

his father said softly. “Your mother… won’t be coming home.“Why?”

“Because she flew to heaven, son.”Sam didn’t understand. “When is she coming back?”His father couldn’t

answer and walked away, leaving Sam standing there, confused and alone.For days, Sam waited. Every morning,

he checked for her at the window. Every night, he left the porch light on—just in case.

One Saturday, Sam dialed 911. “911, what’s your emergency?” “This is Sam. I need help finding my mom,” he said.

“Where is she?”“She went to heaven, but she hasn’t come home yet.”The dispatcher, Officer John Lewis, softened.

“If you want to help her, write her a letter, and send it with a red balloon. She’ll see it from heaven.”

Sam wrote the letter, tied it to a red balloon, and watched it float away. But no response came.A month later,

he called again. “She didn’t write back.”“She got your letter, Sam,” Lewis said. “But sometimes, moms in heaven

can’t write back.”Sam sent another letter. Month after month, balloon after balloon.then, one day, police cars

pulled up outside Sam’s house. Officers handed him red balloons, one by one. That night, Sam wrote another letter.

The next morning, he found a letter on his bed, written in his mother’s handwriting.My sweet Sam,I see your balloons,

and I hear every word you write to me. I love you more than all the stars in the sky. Please take care of your dad for

me.Love always, Mom.Sam held it close. It wasn’t really his mom, but it was enough.