The Bubble Machine (A small window into my imagination) As I move throughout my day, I instinctively absorb the little things: the vividness of the color orange in my watercolor palette, the vibrant conversation rhythm between three congas in my headphones, the peculiar texture of a word I hear from a mind that I am fascinated with It takes just one. Only one My mind clings to it like a toddler hugging her favorite stuffed animal. Delighted, determined, not quite ready to let go And before the thought can settle? *CLICK* The soap is in the tray The wheel is ready Then the machine turns on One bubble, then three bubbles then a whole roomful of bubbles large ones and small ones their colors varying from teal to violet to pink as they ascend toward the light above Which one first?! The tiny one dancing by the window? Or the enormous one holding the whole room upside down? I draw close to one that looks especially iridescent and follow the shifting swirls of colors moving across its skin And just as I begin to wonder what else it might show me another one floats past And another, and another And—oooo, look at that one! One holds an image another a feeling A question brushes up against them and suddenly there are ten more I follow one then another each bubble seeming to open a world of its own Somehow, without even realizing it the afternoon slips into evening No need to know what each one holds No need to reach the end The world grows quiet My body settles into rest while my thoughts drift on lighter than the bubbles themselves— mesmerized