I force on the rubber yellow gloves that stick to my semi-wet hands, encapsulating them in a fake layer of sunshine. Grabbing the first white plate, I scrub hard at it, erasing any semblance of food stains. I do the same to the second one and the third, once I throw out the untouched slice of vanilla cake, displayed on it. Arms throbbing with the force I massage the china, my hands build up a lather on the dishes, an avalanche of bubbles consume my eyes.
I remember seeing those same bubbles on the Saint Lawrence River. The blue-green water gushing at the bottom of the boat, creating pockets of air and ripples as far as the eye could see. In the distance were Orcas and other species of whales. Wanting to see them in all their glory, I snatched the binoculars from Mark. Surprisingly he didn't fight me for them but rather averted his gaze from the whales to me, pulling me in close, blessing me with his heat in the freezing Canadian air. He leaned in for a kiss and I let him but in my haste, the binoculars fell out of my slippery hands into the bubbling water.
And much later I saw those bubbles again, floating through the air. The origin being my six-year-old nephew.
"Look how much fun he's having," I whispered, hoarse.
"Don't worry, Luke's having even more, you just can't see right now." My sister replied as we laid flowers down on a piece of freshly packed earth the size of a toddler.
My nephew ran over and his bubbles floated to the ground by our feet.
"I want Luke to play with the bubbles too." He proclaimed through a lisp.
The shapeshifting bubbles of all sizes fell on the frail dandelions, collapsing the sphere of fluffy seeds.
And those multicolored bubbles of every size float in my sink now, covering my arms.
Mark comes over and pulls me in close as he picks a little candle from the bubble-infested water that's proudly shaped in the number 5.
"Nearly dropped this."
He lets it fall to the counter with a clink and his arms drop to rest at my waist. We sway together, in a locked embrace, feet as light as those bubbles, and I'm not sure when we stop.