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The Nature of Bubbles I was standing in the shower, washing my hair. I opened my eyes, and saw a tiny bubble floating through the air. I admired its beauty, the little rainbow inside it shinning gleefully. I watched it slowly descend. I reached out my hand to catch it, but it flew back up. As it came back down, I reached for it again, again it flew back up, only to come back down. On the third time I caught it in my soap hand. I blew it back into the air, caught it again, then blew all the bubbles off my hand. I watched the myriad of little bubbles floating through the air with ease, enjoying their soft shape and little rainbows. Then they started to pop...one by one they dissolved into thin air...gone forever. Every last one. I got shampoo in my eyes, so I rinsed my hair and got went about my shower. I couldn't help but think of bubbles though. Funny how some thoughts just stick with you, isn't it? I thought back to days long gone, years far back, times almost completely forgotten. I remembered being three years old and sitting on the porch with my older brother, Jeremy, with my little plastic cup filled with bubble solution and blowing bubbles for hours on end. Watching them float out of sight, pop, disappear. I remember being older, sitting on the front lawn on a hot summers day in Westbury New York, blowing bubbles while my brother ( now too old for bubble-blowing) played with fancy water guns and tried to soak all his friends. I remember other things that happened in those two years; My decent from from childhood thoughts into the harsh reality of my life; the finding of a kindred spirit; and the start of a life where I wondered about myself and others. A year or so later I would find myself sitting in the backyard blowing bubbles while our then, young and fiery Australian Cattle Dog mix, bounced in the air to catch the offending bubbles while my newly acquired horse, Pachee, watched on with interest. Sheva barked happily, Pachee yawned, I laughed. These were the rare perfect moments in time. They reminded me of bubbles. While their there, they are beautiful, perfect. They stay for only a brief time, then they disappear, and after a while, its as though they were never even there. But if you remember them, the moment, they come back to you. Its like you were back in time. Yes, I can remember all those days spent watching the bubbles float away on the wings of the wind, never to return. Yes those days are forever gone, but if I try hard enough, I'm three years old again, and my brother is seven, and we are sitting on the front porch blowing bubbles while the wind whisps them away...
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