Bubble Lady

A short story by Karen McGovern

"The secret is sorghum syrup", she said. "That, and fresh lavender oil. Nothing beats fresh lavender." Fragrant bubbles floated everywhere, catching sunlight and shooting rainbows in cosmic halos around her head. I wondered how old she was, for she had reached that point in aging where she had finally become ageless. Like her face, her hands were heavily lined, and her hair was woven in a pure white braid down her back. But her eyes--they were amazing. Bright blazing blue, just like the sky.

"You sure take bubble blowing seriously", I said. Her eyes crinkled even more, almost disappearing in her face as she smiled, showing even, white teeth. "Nobody can be serious while blowing bubbles, Child. That's the secret of life. Into every bubble I blow, I release all the troubles and pains I may have, and the bubbles carry them away--turns them into something beautiful and magic."

While her tone was light, I could tell by the way she looked at me that this bit of whimsical wisdom meant something to her--something very important. In her hand she held a lovely wand of silver, ending in a tiny hammered hoop. The handle was strung with beads--they looked carved and handmade to me. The wand was suspended like a pendant on a braided leather cord she wore around her neck. In her other hand she held a simple glass cylinder filled with a milky, pale purple liquid that smelled like God's garden. She dipped and gently blew a long stream of perfect bubbles.

"You like my wand?" she asked. I commented on how lovely it was and asked if it was a family heirloom. "I suppose so", she replied, "I made it when I was a little girl. My father brought the silver back from one of his travels--I remember how I marveled at it. He showed me how to work it in fire, how to hammer and shape it. I made the beads with my Mother from clay, and colored them with dyes from the flowers in our garden. She also gave me the recipe for the bubble water--something her mother taught her. Our family is well-known for our bubbles." We laughed together, both at the story and the fact that a bubble had landed on my nose, perfect and unbroken. "Well, Child, I guess you have been chosen by the bubbles!" Still laughing I closed my eyes and lifted my nose to the sky. I blew, using my lower lip to direct the air to the tip of my nose until the bubble released itself into the clear sky. Laughing again I watched it drift away, all the while inhaling the delicious scent of sweet lavender.

In that moment I understood. Happiness, serenity, joy--these are fleeting, fragile things to be treasured. The worries and troubles of life may cling and weigh so heavily on the human heart, but now I knew that one well blown bubble had the power to carry them all away.