We were standing outside in the cold waiting for Miley to do her business when I spotted a lone dandelion. I don't know why they create such a strong sense of nostalgia, but at the sight of one I am innocent once again. I remember my mom blowing them with me, and the excitement as all the feathery seeds floated away. Something possibly small and insignificant, but so very important for whatever reason.
"Bella, blow!" I showed her first, and she laughed hysterically. How wonderful to be a child. How wonderful to find the greatest joy in the smallest things in life. I'm always reminded of the scene in Knocked Up when Paul Rudd's character is brooding over the fact that he wishes he loved anything as much as his kids loved bubbles. Why do we allow ourselves to be so unhappy when we grow older?
"Mommy, make a wish?" She asks, still relating "blow" to birthdays. Knowing her birthday is soon makes it even more relevant. I go with it. "Yep baby, make a wish." And as we watch the seeds fly away with the breeze, I make a wish to make every moment a "bubble moment" so I can hold on to the elation from times like this forever.
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