I woke up on the wrong side of the bed today. Sort of. I wasn’t grumpy. Just blah. Everything had a negative outlook to it.
My head was filled with dark thoughts that I couldn’t shake. Even after I meditated. Even after I played my songs for just this kind of an emergency. Even after a little bit of chocolate. Just blah.
Then it took forever to get the boys dressed and ready to go. And I couldn’t find my sunglasses. And I had to threaten to get them in the car. And I forgot the coupons I needed. And no, you may not have any juice. We were done with one of the errands when I realized I didn’t have my receipt to pick up my pictures. I drove back to the house. Where is the damn receipt? F-it. And sure, there was no line at the bread store. And sure, I did clean the bathrooms while waiting for the boys. But I was blah.
Then I learned that I had waited too long to pick up my pictures, and they were gone. And I wish I had someone to blame, but really I only had myself. But we only found a shirt for Tornado E at the store, so we needed to go somewhere else for an Easter shirt for Tornado A. And then the customer at the cash register was difficult with a difficult problem that took forever. And then I had to take away our lunch plans because the boys weren’t listening. And the boys were running around like mad. We stopped at the fountain outside and threw coins to make wishes. “Please give me one for the win column,” I whispered for I was feeling blah.
So the next store we found a shirt for Tornado A, and the boys sat next to the stroller like I ordered them. We stood in a long line waiting to pay. I noticed a tube of touchable bubbles for $2. What the hell? I needed something because I was feeling blah.
While we were rung up, the sweet cashier carried on a conversation with the boys. They stood still and answered her. She sent us a way with a smile and pocket full of change.
We returned to the fountain, and I divided the change between the boys. I opened up the bubbles and started blowing. Because they were the touchable type, they didn’t pop easily. In just a few minutes the courtyard to the mall entrance was filled with bubbles.
My boys danced around, popping bubbles, laughing, dodging people. Other children, walking with their families, stopped to pop a bubble or two and laugh. People, coming from the parking lot, stopped and smiled before entering the mall. Those coming out of the mall paused with surprise and amazement. I kept filling the air with bubbles, laughing. It was like magic.
One woman, arms full with bags, stopped and popped a bubble next to her before returning to her conversation with her friend.
A fast-walking man smiled down at the boys, when he had to dodge them as they chased their bubbles.
Tornado A squealed from his stroller, tiny hands reaching for the bubbles.
And I laughed to watch it all unfold as I kept filling the air with bubbles.
“They’re having lots of fun aren’t they.”
I turned to the voice. A guy, dressed fashionably in goth, ear-buds hanging around his neck, holding a smoking cigarette, smiled down at me.
“Yes, I am. Yes, they are.”
“Would you mind if I gave them some coins for the fountains?”
“Uh, no. Thank you.”
“Here, little dude. Open your hand.”
He leaned down and poured coins into Tornado S’s hand.
“What do you say?” I prompted.
“Here you go, little dude. No, open your hand. There.”
He poured coins into Tornado E’s hand.
“What do you say?”
The guy smiled.
“Have a good day!”
“Thank you! You too!”
He walked into the mall.
I finished off the bottle of bubbles. Then we left, and the world seemed filled with magic and bubbles.