Kimberlee K.

A few nights ago, just as the sun was making its final descent and golden hour turned to dusk, I walked around my apartment shutting the blinds and switching on the lights.

I walked to the window in my bedroom, noticing the last hints of the pink sky, and then I stopped, my hand on the tilt wand (which is apparently the official name of the thing you twist to close the blinds), noticing something flying just outside the window.

No, not flying, floating.

It was a bubble, lots of bubbles, floating down from the apartment upstairs.

They were tinted pink from the sky, and they glided down the side of my building like they had all day to do it.

Above me, I heard my neighbor and her young daughter giggling.

“Look!!” the girl said before another wave of bubbles rained down.

They didn’t know I was by my window, didn’t know the fun they were having was making me smile too. They were enjoying their afternoon, marveling in the never-ending magic of bubbles—I just got some of that residual joy. And lucky me!

Isn’t it a privilege to be close to that kind of wonder, to see it light someone up, especially a child?

Isn’t it a privilege to be reminded that the smallest things can be magical if we let them?

Isn’t it a privilege to notice the wonder around us rather than let it pass us by?

Little did I know, I needed the bubbles, needed a moment to just stop and take a breath, smile and say, “aww.” I needed a little glimpse of some wonder, a pull back into the present moment, a reminder that I’m right here.

Here’s hoping you find your own little wonder today, some metaphorical (or perhaps even literal) bubbles in the window.