Floating Bubbles: A Tale of Freedom

There were bubbles floating in the air – soap bubbles. Floating and shining in the sun light. These wet rainbow spheres were freely traveling with the wind, flying high and disappearing out of sight, or flying low and dying on the grass.

A woman sitting on the grass was blowing them. Endlessly, one after the other, she was dipping the wand in the soap and blowing through it, creating those free pearls of all shapes and sizes, sometimes slowly, creating a massive one, sometimes making a chain of small ones.

A small child, maybe five years old, came running, trying to catch the flying bubbles. He had a hysterical laugh. Running around on the grass, he hoped to catch the flying bubbles, to snap one between his tiny hands. He kept clapping at them in the air. He missed again and again but it didn’t matter. There were plenty more coming for him to try and catch. So, he got closer and closer to what seemed to him to be the source of them. He was nearly there when, oh no! Mommy’s hand grabbed him and made him back away from it. No, Mommy. Please let me play here. I like it better here.

The mom mumbled a “sorry” with an embarrassed smile. However she was puzzled. Why would an adult in her right mind choose to go to a park and start playing with a kid’s toy? What sort of person does that? She might have some issues, this one, thought the mother. A free-loader that has no responsibilities. No worries. No must-dos. No have-tos. Well, a person, a real adult, has other things to do, important things. She would not have time for this kind of frivolity. So, she walked away from her feeling so much more mature and important, for she has loads to do and a child to care for. She kind of envied her a little though. When do I ever have time to do what I like?

She walked past a couple of teenagers walking in the direction of the bubble maker. Oh my God! What is this one doing there blowing bubbles? Loud laughs and finger pointing followed. They’re staring at her and even shouting in her direction. “What are you making bubbles for?” Meanwhile, no reply came, only bubbles. “Hey, we’re talking to you.” “What a weirdo!” I wish I were so free. “Let’s go. Anyway, Megan managed to get some beers.” “Bye, weirdo.”

What a loud pair, thought an old man passing by. Let’s try and find a bench to rest those legs and enjoy the Sun. He sat on a bench, while a bubble passed by his face. He looked at it soar in the sky carried by the wind until the Sun hurt his eyes. So, he looked away and tried to find the source of the bubble. He was hoping to find some kids playing. Instead his eyes found a woman sitting on the grass blowing through one of those toys kids use to make bubbles. They were of all sizes and shapes, like the characters of some untold story; his story maybe.

All these bubbles float around and nobody paid any attention. Some will die at the contact of a leaf, a branch or the shoulder of a passer-by. Some soar up high in the sky until out of sight. Where are they going? Did I make the right choice? A cold fear came crawling down his spine all of a sudden.

But there she was, the bubble maker, closing the cap of the soap water container, getting up, and using the same path as everybody else to leave the scene. Her legs were a bit numb from the seated position she had held for a quite long time. She could feel the evening Sun on the back of her head. All in all, it had been another nice day in the park.

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