Blowing Bubbles

Yesterday was one of those beautiful spring days that was uncharacteristically windy. Literally -- there were trees knocked down and one even started a fire after landing on power lines a few towns over. Yet the air was sweet with the smell of blossoms and the sun kept darting in and out from behind the clouds. I love days like that.

In the afternoon I decided to take the kids outside and then spotted a bottle of bubbles I'd taken outside earlier but not opened. I haven't blown bubbles for a long time. Yesterday seemed like the perfect day to do it, with the wind having a mind of its own. We could actually see people up on the hill behind our house, chasing after a kite. It was a kite day, too.

So I took out the bubbles and Anna and Ethan went wild. Sometimes they don't care much about them but yesterday was different; maybe because of the wind. They kept running all across the yard, going after them. Of course Ethan was slower and Anna would stomp on most of the bubbles before he could get there. The wind was so unpredictable that they'd be floating one way and the next minute go off in the opposite direction. Some were whisked up in the air and more than once I heard Ethan watching them saying, "Up...up...up!" At one point the kids were actually tripping over themselves and each other to get to the bubbles first, and the wind was whipping my hair in my mouth and eyes. I kept looking at the wind bending the trees and quietly roaring through the leaves and loving how everything was beautifully wild and unpredictable. Like life. I can't describe it well but it's as if a sense of freedom was swirling in the air all around me. The freedom of letting go and letting the wind take me, take my life, take my family's lives...like the bubbles. I felt free, and carefree.

I didn't know until today that yesterday people from all over the nation and the world were joining together to blow bubbles to try to break a Guinness World Record and raise awareness for autism. Apparently the event was founded by a mom who realized that blowing bubbles was a way her son with autism could relate to and participate with students in his class on something.

I had no idea, as we stood out in the wind, laughing and chasing while the bubbles did their dance, and then disappeared.