There are fleeting moments of pure happiness. I experienced one this week while watching kids chase bubbles. It was the end of a long day. Our feet dragged as if there were milestones embedded within our soles. My watch seemed to be moving backwards as I longed for the twenty minutes until my charges would disseminate into the arms of their adoring parents. Six of us total marched as a gauntlet crew, toward the grass with a foreboding from trying to kill time.
The first bubble was released into the atmosphere. Shrieks and laughter filled the college campus. Passer-byers, young and old, were compeled from their inner world to grin. Squeals of delight followed the children as they lept toward each small rainbows The sound would decrescendo until a twitch of my wrist and the invisible momentum of the wind would rush through my magic wand creating a stream of emerald, ruby, and diamond orbs. Jackets were cast to the ground no longer needed because of the rare San Francisco summer sunshine streaming down and the warmth that bubbles up when distracted by play. The children would rush back to me as the tide rushes back to the shore, the twinkle in their eyes betraying pure happiness.
From the treasured sunshine to the elegant simplicity of children playing to the fleeting beauty of bubbles, the moment was complete. I was content. Why can't all of life be like chasing bubbles?