Bubbles.

Little spheres of soap and water. Breakable by touch. Floating away into the atmosphere as soon as they are made.

So simple, yet they make people happy. Unless, of course, you get one in your eyes or mouth, then people will hate the stinging and the bitter taste that they leave.

When I had hope and thought I would love school forever, I played with bubbles, and they brought me joy.

The mindless act of blowing bubbles. Putting the wand in the bottle and blowing. Then seeing what land the bubbles create for a person and what land the bubbles end up in.

I could blow bubbles with my friends and family, and we would be mesmerized by the places our imaginations took us.

On the last day of fourth grade, my sister knew how to cheer me up after knowing I would be leaving my old school in the past. She took out some bubbles, and we tried to catch them and watched them as they floated off into the world.

Bubbles go away when you get older, though—most fun does. It morphs into something different, something less magical.

Bubbles stop being the thing you think of to cheer you up. They stop being the thing that the good witch of the south travels by.

They become something different. They become thought bubbles and things to start your ideas up with. They start being something that only little kids play with.

Instead of bubbles, we start finding joy in clothes, TV, no homework, sleep, and junk food.

Instead of bubbles and toys, we block out all of the fun and focus on our current stress and what our future will look like.

We have popped the bubble of our youth, and we have forgotten to put the wand back in the bubble solution.

We get so preoccupied with what is going on and forget that we are still kids. We forget that we still have time to play with those bubbles. We still have time to enjoy our lives before adulthood falls upon us.

All we have to do is brush off a little dust, put the wand back in the bottle, and blow.