hummingwolf | (no subject)

When I was a child, I would spend hours in the bathtub acquainting myself with the worlds in the soap bubbles. I rubbed a little soap and a little water between my little fingers and blew cautiously, taking care that the bubble would grow as big as it could but not so big it would burst. Then I would watch, mesmerized by the swirling iridescent colors before me. Each band of color was a different civilization. Each tiny speck was a person with a fascinating life and many stories to tell that I would never be able to hear. Red, green, or blue, I loved them all.

I would breathe on the world, ever so gently, trying to get the different cultures to mingle, trying to help them get to know one another. When a bubble popped, I would mourn. And then, so that the people could be reborn, I would create a new bubble, cupping the world gently in my palm, praying that it would never break.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

I was actually rather snobbish as a child, thinking I knew better than anybody else my age & most of the grown-ups around me. I got over most of that when I got sick & had to deal with that attitude from people who knew nothing about what was wrong and thought they knew everything. Seeing your own bad behavior coming from someone else is quite the humbling experience.

I was prompted to write about bubbles when I saw your shower post, by the way. It's been years since I've really looked at a bubble.