Blow bubbles when you're happy

Every Friday and eve of public holiday, soap bubbles linger around the pathway along the canal on the way to the mrt station. They take a life of their own, as though they too, are making their way home after a hard week's work.

It is always delightful to walk to the mrt station on these days. It's when the dull and mundane walk to the station becomes a little more magical. It's like the sheer fact of not having to spend the following day hard at work calls for a celebration.

And there stood the gym instructor every Friday and eve of public holiday, outside his gym at the other side of the fence, blowing bubbles. Injecting a bit of fun in anticipation of the weekend to come. 

I always slow down, looking at the pretty bubbles and smiling to myself. I oftentime catch his eye and smile or nod, in appreciation of the joy he is spreading. And he would smile back.

Today I was making my way to the mrt station and smiling to myself as usual at the pretty sight of the bubbles, reminding me to cheer up, it's Friday! I caught his eye and smiled and he smiled back. And I continued on my way. 

Today I made an effort to follow the bubbles and only then did I realise that the bubbles do indeed go a long way...all the way to the mrt station. It's like how joy can travel a very long way when you share it. And it's all the more a delight when it's shared by a perfect stranger.