Tiny Bubbles

She sat quietly on the beach watching the waves flow in and out crashing against the sand. The sun was setting, burnishing the sky with muted hues of pink gold and red. She took out her bottle of bubbles, opened them and began to blow the semi-transparent orbs into the twilight air. It was something she loved to do, and it brought her back to a time long ago that she could just sit and think of nothing but the bubbles floating off into the atmosphere, bobbing as they went.

She smiled, and would imagine Glinda in one of those bubbles, and wondered why she just couldn’t twitch something to come and go. And what if she got stuck in a tree branch somewhere? Then what? The haunted forest was full of the mean trees’ who could have grabbed it at any given moment to bust, thus catapulting poor Glinda in a downward screaming spiral splattering her glittery crumpled body all over the yellow brick road.

It was a thought anyway.

She watched as some of them would land on the sand, sit for half a second and bust. Ploop, gone in the beating of a heart. Some others would float out of sight up to the moon it seemed and still the others would land on the water to disintegrate instantly. Bubbles. If the problems of the world could only be solved by blowing bubbles she thought. How much simple would things be.

The sun was just a half plate of color now, and the darkness was fast approaching. The wind was picking up, and she reluctantly put the soapy formula away.

She got up and walked down the beach back toward the path leading up to the cottage.

Be back again in the twilight of the night she thought. More bubbles, less worries.