The First Bubble
From the waters of a wandering river, a delicate froth gently tumbled along the riverside. The froth, with his pure white color and fluffy appearance, gazed about hoping to see his favorite friend. He pranced over the ripples, while dodging the raindrops which were falling from the willows. The old carp broke the watery silence and greeted the friend he had known for ages. His royalty, the kingfisher, cried his harsh hello from the branches above. Even the grouchy snapping turtle, resting on his private rock, managed a nod of acknowledgement today. His merry jaunt through the countryside of Camulet was nearly over, but he had not seen his friend, Romaine.
Although the froth did not succumb to moods of depression, the absence of Romaine was too much agony for him. He dwindled in size as he thought of Romaine’s dark eyes and fair complexion. He thought of her long shiny hair, which was as black as a raven’s feathers. He remembered her wonderful smile, which ravishingly complimented an enchanting face. Then suddenly, the froth realized these oppressive thoughts were about to doom him. He was only a handful of bubbles.
Then, with aversion, the froth wildly churned the water in a furious rage. The snapping turtle withdrew to his shell, and the carp swam to a deep, deep hole. Feathers fell from where the kingfisher had been serenely perched. The turmoil scared the witch hazel shrubs so badly that they scattered their seeds a few weeks early. As the little froth calmed, he saw that he frightened his friends away. He had only made matters worse.
Serenity suddenly set across the countryside. A quiet breeze tranquilly carried a tune through the limbs of the shady willows. The soft voice tantalizingly crept up on the little froth. He knew Romaine was the only one who could cause peacefulness like this.
Romaine appeared from behind a tree. In her slender arms she carried orchids, which were as lovely as her gown. As she walked, the thick green grasses parted to make a winding path. The tender young buds on the path practically bloomed as she strolled by. Then the path abruptly ended at the river’s edge. As she gently sat down to dangle her bare feet in the cool water, little froth raced over to tickle her toes.
Meanwhile, the old carp briskly came out of his deep hole and the snapping turtle gingerly poked out his head. The kingfisher was once again contentedly perched high on a branch, while other little creatures were shyly raising their heads from logs and bushes. Plants were bending their limbs as if straining to listen to what was about to be said. Everyone knew the froth was in love with Romaine and they were there to cheer him on.
“Hello, little froth. How have you been today?” Romaine asked, exposing her dimples with every word she spoke.
“Just fine,” he said, as he began to quiver.
“You’re so cute little froth. How would you like to make other people as happy as you make me?”
“I would, but how could I?”
“It’s easy!”
In one quick motion Romaine flung her open hand through the little froth and a miracle happened. The froth was now a bubble freed from his river. He floated to Romaine’s eyes and danced in front of them. He playfully bumped against her smiling lips and kissed her in his own way. He went sideways, up, down and did some somersaults and flips.
The snapping turtle slid off his rock in astonishment, because he had never seen such a sight. Out of sheer delight, the old carp thrashed the water and swam in circles, while the kingfisher trumpeted his approval with loud, harsh whistles.
A magical joy echoed from the riverbank where the froth was now soaring through air. Within moments, friends he had not seen in years were there to share in his joy. The water snake was one of them. The froth glided over the water and rolled across the snake’s slimy back in playful happiness. He circled the beaver, who was eager to greet him, and spoke only briefly. Froth’s pal, the duck, was suddenly chased by this ecstatic bubble. He continued greeting his friends one by one in some fashion as Romaine enjoyed the merrymaking.
Behind a log, acting as if she was not invited, stood the porcupine and her babies with gleeful eyes. The little froth nearly forgot to speak to the porcupines, so he quickly floated to their vicinity. With a delicate pop, little froth ceased to exist. He had come too close to the porcupine’s needle like spines. Thirty or more fright filled eyes moistened with sadness, as sniffles and frowns dotted the riverbank.
Romaine was affected the most, because for the first time in years, there were tears in her eyes. She slowly walked over to the porcupines to console them. Through her tears, she gazed into the cloudy sky and spoke: “Little froth, in those few minutes that you were a bubble, you brought more happiness than many can experience in a lifetime. From this day until I die, I will make sure a bubble brightens someone’s day as it did ours.”
With those words, Romaine threw her orchids in the river and followed the path to her home. She kept her vow. There were bubbles rising from that same stream daily for seventy years. I know. I was the owl that watched it all.
