Little and big

I dip the wand into the sticky solution and wave my arm in gentle arcs across the warm spring air.  The bubbles form effortlessly, each one a perfect circle that inflates itself and then floats off on its own unpredictable course, its iridescent swirls glowing beautifully in the morning sun. She runs after them all, her four year old feet almost flying off the ground and sometimes tripping over one another as she races this way and that, trying to catch each delicate orb before it suddenly pops and vanishes.  Her eyes twinkle with pure happiness; her little girl laugh rings out gleefully and fills the whole of the bright blue sky.

"Can we keep playing this?" she asks breathlessly as she returns to where I'm standing.

"Oh, yes!" I answer, smiling. "I'm really glad you want to, too."

***

He speaks from behind me and his voice is somehow familiar yet strangely not at all. I turn around to match a face with the very grown-up sound and am caught off-guard for at least the tenth time this week when I realize the voice belongs to my oldest son.  He seems to have grown into a young man overnight; he is almost as tall as me now, and his voice suddenly fits with the mature thoughts and words I am always so glad he shares with me.  In my heart I still see clearly a sweet, bespectacled little boy running after the bubbles I used to blow for him, and I'm reminded of how important it is to enjoy the wonderful moments of each age while they're there for the catching.  They really do vanish so quickly.

***

The two of them dash in unison across the grassy yard on a perfect spring evening, baskets in hand, his big feet eventually slowing to allow her little ones a chance to catch up.  I watch him kindly let her go ahead to find the brightly coloured egg he spotted hidden in the grass and leaves, the eight years that separate them obvious in so many ways.  Eight years from now, I imagine that bubbles floating prettily through the air will have lost their magic for her, and that he will be caught up in the exciting and sometimes difficult business of becoming an adult, with all of its rights and decisions and responsibilities.  It seems like such a short time for so much to change, but when I look at the differences between the two cousins, him in his black ball cap and her in his old race car helmet and silvery cape, I know that such metamorphoses happen in what feels like the blink of an eye. That's why the experience of a beautiful Easter weekend filled with four laughing children, some little and some big, each of them wonderful in what makes them who they are right now, feels like such a sweet treat to savour.