Bubbles

I'm all done for the day, back at the base, driving my car out the garage. There's a lady out there, and she's blowing bubbles and spinning in a circle, bubbles all around her, on the sidewalk by an empty 545. From a distance she looked 10, perhaps 12 years old. I kept looking and maybe she was 12, maybe she was 60. I couldn't tell. Rolling down the window as I got closer, and oh! She is about 60, but the thought flashes- how could that be? She's blowing bubbles! I say loudly, "that's beautiful!" In the moment right before yelling I wondered if I should even say anything- maybe she wouldn't hear me? Or wouldn't get that I was talking to her? Or think it was weird I would yell out at her from my car- but no. She smiles back saying, "Thank you!" As if, you know, people yell friendly things across the street at each other all the time. In my rear-view I see her out there, still twirling in a sea of gently floating bubbles, glinting in the fading light- she still looks about 12. It's warm outside, as I head for the highway overpass. Orange sunlight passing underneath.