"Come out, come out wherever you are..."

When I was a kid of maybe six or seven years old, I had an odd fascination with bubbles.  Don't laugh.  One of my favorite things to do would be to get a bottle of bubbles, go outside and fill the air around me with those delicate, iridescent soapy spheres and just look at them.  I know it sounds a bit Rainman-ish but I wasn't counting or studying or anything very smart...I would just stand and admire the way the sun shone through the soap and created such marvelous colors. 

I remember one sticky summer afternoon while "bubbling" it up in the backyard, on the rare occasion I was patient enough to do this, I decided to blow a very large bubble to see how long it would stay aloft.  After many unsuccessful tries, I finally managed to create a rather impressive bubble almost the size of my head.  I timidly lifted the bubble wand into the air and twisted it around until the bubble separated itself from the end of the wand.  I was transfixed.  Not only did the bubble NOT burst, but a slight breeze caught my creation and lifted it high into the air! I stood rooted to the spot and watched as the bubble bobbed and swirled and danced away from me.  Suddenly, whether it was my imagination or the perfect trick of the hot summer sun, the bubble shone a brilliant and dazzling pink! My breath caught in my chest and the tiny blond hairs on my arms stood at attention with excitement. A new game was instantly born.  From that moment on, I spent hours pretending each giant bubble I blew was Glinda, herself, descending from the heavens to send me on a quest into a strange and beautiful land. And so it went until one Saturday afternoon while shopping with my mom (my favorite weekend activity) at Sky City in downtown Lenoir, I came across something that changed the game forever. 

It was a cold and rainy autumn Saturday - my favorite time to go shopping because I loved the swish-squeak rhythm of the windshield wipers.  Mom, in her usual way, gave me two dollars and turned me loose to roam the store with my two dollars burning a hole in my husky jeans.  I browsed up and down the action figure aisle (nah....I already have all the He-Man stuff and I don't like Transformers because you have to DO stuff to them)....the Lego aisle (God, no. You have to PUT STUFF TOGETHER)...the Barbie aisle (God...I want that one...and THAT one....AND that ONE....ooooohhhh....and THAT ONE!)...but nothing was grabbing my ADHD little brain.  Nothing, that is, until I turned the corner and saw the giant cage of big, plastic bouncy balls!!!  HOLY CRAP!!! 

They're so pretty....each one a specific color swirled with white. Blue, orange, purple, green, yellow, pink. Pink. Wait a minute. PINK!  P-I-N-K PIIIIIIINK!!!!  Oh my God....there is a big pink plastic bubble sitting right there.  Right. There. In front of my face. Pressed up against the metal squares of the cage. Eye level. Ok...how the hell do I get it out?!?!  Let's see....it won't fit through the bars.  (Yes, I did try that.  I never said I was a bright one. I was blond, blue eyed and chubby. Not clever.)  I can't climb the cage and jump in. (although that would be totally awesome!!)  Geez....how am I going to get it!? Yes...I will just scoot it up the side of the cage and flip it over the top edge. No sweat.  Fifteen minutes later, the beautiful swirly pink and white ball tumbles over the side of the cage and makes that beautiful hollow, plastic-y *SMACK* on the linoleum floor.  YES!!!  It is MINE!!!  I tenderly carry it over to my mother and place it lovingly and gently into her buggy. 

"Is that what you want, Honey?" she asks in her sweet sing-song voice.
"Yep. Sure do." is my reply.
"How much is it?"
"A dollar."
"Well, Honey, you still have a dollar left. Do you want to look at anything else? I think the bubbles you like are less than a dollar." she says while trying to smooth out my cowlick behind my left ear.
"Nope. That's why I got the ball, Mama. See...I've been using my bubbles for Glinda when I play "Wizard of Oz" and I thought that I can use THIS instead so I can play "Oz" inside and not get the bubbles all over the carpet. Plus, it's really pretty" I sigh as I stare up at my mom with my big cow eyes.
"What a great idea, Baby. Let's get you home so you can play".

And with that, my mother took my hand and led me, the buggy and Glinda up to the checkout line.

No questions. No concerns. No raised eyebrow. No worried expression. No sigh of confusion and frustration. No demanding I change my pink ball to a blue ball. 

Only Love. Acceptance. Tolerance. Kindness. Patience. Understanding. 

I didn't understand it at the time, but my mother was an amazing woman.  At a time when so many small town southern mothers would be ashamed of her son buying a big pink bouncy ball, she not only WASN'T ashamed, she was proud. AND she understood. She understood that I was different from most other boys...and she didn't care.  She allowed me to be who I was without hesitation.  She gave me the love and freedom and guidance to free my imagination and create for myself entire imaginary lands in our backyard...or in our living room. 

I am blessed beyond measure to have been raised by a mother and father who gave me the courage, the love and the intelligence to be exactly what I wanted to be: their son.