I am Like a Piece of String

I am like a piece of string.

I bring things together and hold them in place.
When I find something I like, I wrap myself around it completely.
A little tension is necessary to keep me focused; too much tension and I will break.

My husband is like a balloon.

He is always striving to go higher, faster, farther.
He looks at the ground from the perspective of the sky.
His only trajectory is up, and he never tires of it--the fun is in the reaching.

Without the balloon, my piece of string would just lie crumpled on the ground, unable to move.
I need the balloon to pull me towards the sky, to help me reach for more, to have one foot in the clouds.
I also need the ground to tether me down, to keep me in line, to remind me where I came from.
Without the ground, my piece of string would dangle helplessly, tossed about by whims of chance.

I hold with one hand to the things I know and with the other to the things I dream of knowing.
Without either one or the other, I would be lost and helpless.
Yet to hold to both means I am constantly pulled in two directions.
A little tension is necessary to keep me focused.
Too much tension and I will break.