A few weeks ago, my husband and I went to the world’s largest balloon festival in Albuquerque, New Mexico. (A side note: If you’ve never been, go.)

We went as guests of our daughter’s family — her, her husband and three children. The whole point of being at the balloon festival is not to just see the balloons (you can do that from miles away) but to be there in the middle of the experience. We needed to find “a good place,” my daughter said.

So we got up at the unearthly hour of 3:30 a.m., loaded ourselves into the van and headed to the field. We met up with thousands of other people also seeking “a good place.” Shoulder to shoulder, we streamed through the entrance gates with our camp chairs slung on our backs, our bodies bundled in coats and hats and scarves, intent on finding “a good place.”

A good place. It’s something we seek almost every day — a place that gives the best view, the upper hand, the greatest comfort, the optimal experience.

A good place in the check-out lines is the one that moves faster than the other lines.

A good place in the parking lot is the spot closest to the door or, if it’s not available, then the one closest to the parking cart corral.

A good place on the bus is a window seat next to a heater with no chatty seat mate.

A good place for a work office depends on what you want to have happen there. If you want the attention of the higher ups, then close to their offices is best. If you want to lay low, then the office nearest the bathrooms works.

A good place at church means a clear view of the speaker but hidden from the leaders sitting up front, scanning the congregation for next week’s speakers.

A good place at the movie means an unobstructed view, no popcorn underfoot, prime acoustics and no cold air fanning across our neck.

A good place at the restaurant can be tricky: private yet available enough for the waitress to keep an eye on your needs, air temperature just right, no view of the kitchen doors swinging open, no kid slinging potatoes in your direction, and no noisy audio speaker hanging over your table.

A good place on an airplane depends on what you believe about airplane crashes. Some think close to the front is safest; others believe the tail section is the good place. Most of us believe that from 30,000 feet, it just doesn’t matter.

Our early morning efforts at the balloon festival paid off. We ended up in a good place — a very good place — completely encircled by hundreds of balloons taking off. They rose up slowly, gained speed and altitude, slipped their bonds and sailed away above us. Surrounded by the sight of massive, colorful balloons slowly rising like awakening giants, the noise of the whooshing burners shooting hot air into them, and the collective awe and cheers of the masses of fellow spectators confirmed our goal: We did, indeed, find a good place.

As we age, it seems finding a “good place” isn’t as important as it used to be. Perhaps we’re learning we don’t need the front row, the best seat, the most sought-after place to still enjoy the experience.

Perhaps we’re learning the people we’re with are more important than the place we occupy.

Perhaps we’re learning there is joy in giving the good place to someone else.

In my world, I’m learning that the good places sliding past me in this life will eventually be replaced by my final good place: a small, quiet, restful spot among family members who stretch back six generations before me.

In time, it will be a very good good place.

D. Louise Brown lives in Layton. She writes a biweekly column for the Standard-Examiner.