I had one of those moments this afternoon. Thank goodness for those sacred moments, every one.
I saw two beautiful, impressionable little boys sitting on the steps of a brownstone of an incredible tree-lined street. It was mostly quiet, with just a whisper of traffic and the weather was warm, with a spit of humidity. These boys were busy blowing bubbles, calm and content in the moment. Puppies passed with a pat on the head. Neighbors oohed and smiled as they walked by the duo. A little guy walking home from his first day of Jewish School became a fast and dear friend.
It was happy. It felt perfect. And hallelujah it was all mine.
Those were my sons blowing our homemade bubbles that smelled like apple soap.
That tree-lined street, I live there now.
And the passer-byes and doggie-friends who looked in adoration were loving my life in that moment just as much as I was.
Oh those moments where you see the hand of God in your life and feel so loved. And so grateful. And everything somehow feels right.
Oh those moments when total peace is blown from a bubble gun.
**written yesterday**
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