This morning I woke up at 6:20-ish, walked the dog, fed the dog, put a load of laundry in the dryer, emptied the sink of dishes, ran the dishwasher, folded clothing and took a bag of trash out.

It sounds like a lot when I write it, but that is pretty much my usual and maybe similar to yours, too.

Then, as I grabbed a breath, I looked outside. I saw the beautiful lake and the mango tree in full season. I saw the shining reflection of the sun coming from the east. Everything looked clean and new and pure after the rains of yesterday.

I’m not sure what gripped me, but instead of continuing with my never-ending lists of domestic to-dos before waking my kids at 7:30, I decided to grab a bottle of bubbles and take it out into the backyard.

I sat on a patio chair and ripped open the package of bubbles.

And then, I blew bubbles.

Big and small, mostly small.

My dog was looking at me in shock. She wasn’t sure what was going on, but she loved it.

It didn’t last long, but I made my point. It was OK to stop and take time to, well, blow some bubbles.

For a moment, with the morning sun by my side and my sweet dog by my other, it was just me and the bubbles and the promise of a day filled with whatever I wanted it to be filled with.  For a moment, I was light and fun and someone a little bit different.

After I felt sufficiently blown out, I got right back up and went to pick up the mangoes that had fallen to the ground overnight.

I had work to do.

Life is short, so go blow some bubbles for heaven’s sake. For your sake.