Standing on my parents’ balcony, looking over the edge. A whip bird cry some metres away. The distant sounds of a wallaby startled and bounding away through the bush.
It’s warm, and I stand there in my red t-shirt and bike pants, baggy around my tiny little legs.
I dip my cardboard toilet roll into a meadow lea margarine container full of water and morning fresh, the distinct smell fills my nostrils as I raise the roll to my mouth.
Not too hard, not too soft. Just firm enough.
The bubble forms at the end of the toilet roll. I blow harder.
The bubble breaks away from the roll, wobbles a little, and floats up perfectly formed.
Delighted, I cry out “Look!”
My brother smiles down on me, twice my height, his skin many shades darker, his hair blonde in the sun and his eyes sparkling blue, and says “Good one!”
“Look at the colours!” I squeal.
The bubble floats up towards the trees, it hits a branch, it pops.
Excited, we each grab our margarine containers and toilet rolls and blow more bubbles in quick succession.
The air fills with perfect round balls of sparkling marbled colour as they rise up towards the sun and we watch them go.
The sunlight glints on their surface, a green swirl of detergent reflects the blue of the sky. Bright with pink and orange, yellow and blue. Tiny round rainbows lifting up into the air.
I smile up at my big brother, and I’m lost in a moment of perfection.
Do you remember a moment of perfection? Did you blow bubbles?