A bubble isn’t less of a “successful” bubble because it pops.
Here’s a note I typed up in April of this year. (Apparently I have a thing for bubbles.)
May have gotten a bit too deep with #1 son this morning as we walked to the bus stop. Says Colin, upon finding a piece of chalk on the sidewalk, “I don’t really like chalk. Because you do all that drawing for nothing. Once it rains, it goes away.”
“Just because something is temporary doesn’t mean it’s not worth doing. There are lots of temporary things that still have value…” says me.
“Oh? Like what?”
“Well, like life itself. Life doesn’t last for ever, but it’s still worth living.”
He’s SIX, for crying out loud. Perhaps I could have pulled up some other examples. Like paper airplanes. Or bubbles.
A while ago (a long while ago) I confessed to being a friend hoarder. (Once you’re friends with me, you’re friends for life. You’ll have to beat me away with a stick if you want to get rid of me. Yada yada.) I’ve been re-thinking this position.
It’s possible that I may have felt the need to cling to friends so tightly before because I was afraid that if the relationship fizzled out, that would mean it was never really real to begin with. I’m not sure I fee this way any longer. Just because something ends, doesn’t mean it didn’t have value.
Part of the sadness that comes with the end of things is just a natural mourning. But another part of that sadness may be explained by the unrealistic expectation that “it” (whatever “it” happens to be) would last forever.
Friendships, great loves, lives, bubbles and paper airplanes. None of these things last forever. But, perhaps, none of them were meant to. That doesn’t mean that they weren’t meaningful, life changing, profound, beautiful or fun.
eleven bee 
