The snow has melted and the slush has cleared. A dewy carpet of thick green grass has covered the soft mushy earth. The frozen stream has thawed; crystal-clear water trickles down its rocky bed now. Sun pours honey, leaving iridescent flakes of gold floating behind. Drifting blue landscapes of soft cushiony clouds have replaced the dull grey skies of yesterday. The air carried the essence of springtime blooms.

She looked around. There was joy spilling from every corner. Children making merry, running, playing; filling the odd gaps in the bountiful nature with their cheerful chatter.

Her wandering gaze stopped at the child standing alone, away from the crowd, lost in his own world.

“Must be a loner like me,” she thought with a smile.

He carefully dipped a fly swatter in a bucket of soapy solution. A gentle shake later held the mesh in front of his mouth and softly blew into it. Voilà! Tiny bubbles sprang out. Bursting into peals of laughter, he chased the elusive bubbles, trying to pop them with his fingers. Her heart warmed with a tinge of envy at his ability to draw happiness from little things which her adult mind had long forgotten to do.


Written for Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner: Week #35– 2018

Photo- MorgueFile May 2018 file1831341080767

5 thoughts on “Bubbles

  1. In our busy lives, sometimes we take the little imperfect things for granted and overlook them… thanks for sharing, well written.. 🙂

    “While you’re busy looking for the perfect person, you’ll probably miss the imperfect person who could make you perfectly happy”.

    Liked by 1 person

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