In January 2014, fires raged around my hometown of Warrandyte, casting a thick haze of smoke and fear over our tight-knit community. We didn’t know what would happen next, whether the flames would reach our homes, destroy the bushland, or upend everything we knew. But through the fear and uncertainty, one thing was clear: the Country Fire Authority (CFA) was fighting with everything they had to protect us. Their dedication didn’t just save houses, it saved wildlife, ancient trees, bird habitats, power lines, roads, local businesses, and the invisible threads that hold a community together. It was nothing short of heroic. In the quiet that followed the worst of the threat, I felt an overwhelming mix of relief, gratitude, and the need to give back. My creativity, so often a source of personal expression, became something more: a way to honour the courage and sacrifice of others. So I gathered a bunch of red balloons, the colour of fire, yes, but also of courage and love and began to write. Each balloon carried a handwritten message of thanks, hope, and appreciation for the CFA volunteers: “Thank you for saving more than just homes.” “We see you. We honour you.” “You are the heartbeat of this community.” Then, one by one, I tied them along the Warrandyte Bridge over the Yarra River, quietly, early in the day, as the sun rose over a town still breathing in the aftermath of what could have been. I didn’t expect attention. It wasn’t for recognition. It was an offering, a creative act of community love. To my surprise, the gesture resonated. People walking across the bridge stopped to read. They took photos. They shared stories. They cried. And they passed it on, online, in conversations, through quiet nods of understanding. What started as a deeply personal thank-you became something bigger: a collective moment of remembrance and gratitude. The act was described by many in the community as a kind and moving tribute. For me, it was simply a way of putting emotion into action, of transforming thankfulness into something tangible. That day reminded me of the incredible power of volunteers and of creativity. And how, sometimes, a simple red balloon can carry more than air. It can carry a community’s heart. Word spread quickly through town. Locals walking across the bridge stopped, smiled, read the notes. Some took photos. Others cried. Messages of thanks began appearing online. The gesture, though small, was deeply felt and the CFA volunteers heard it. It was later described by some in the community as “a kind and creative act,” and that warmed my heart more than I can express. Because this wasn’t about grand statements. It was about honouring those who serve quietly and bravely. It was about using creativity as a language of gratitude. And it reminded me how powerful small actions can be when they come from a place of genuine love. I believe every community is held together by people like our CFA. I just wanted to make sure they knew it and that, even in quiet moments, someone sees them. Someone is thankful. And someone cares enough to tie a red balloon to a bridge in their honour.