“If I could save every day like a treasure in a bubble of time, I would preserve each precious moment and memory and continue to relive those experiences until eternity passes away. If only I was a child again, I would save all my wishes and dreams in one place and capture them in a bubble of time.” Judith Land
Thinking about my biological family and mortality stimulates emotional resonance that evokes strong reminiscences, potent images, mysteries about relationships and human character, and sentimental feelings of life, like the brightly colored pedals of an enchanted flower slowly unfolding one beguiling leaf at a time to expose the inherent beauty of the corolla.
“My early life was a joy. Flowers bloomed, the water glistened, and the sun twinkled merrily on little waves of the sea of tranquility, but the journey to find my biological family was an emotional experience filled with mysteries, hazards and pitfalls. The thrill of discovery of each new clue that brought me one step closer to my real self and true identity, caused me to bubble over with enthusiasm, sparkling and effervescing like a Waterford toasting flute of crystal glass filled with bubbly champagne.” Judith Land
Have you ever felt nostalgic about what happened long-ago? Have you ever wished you knew more about the people and significant events in your life? Have you ever wished you could enter a bubble in time to see what your parents and grandparents looked like, how they thought and behaved?
I’ve always been fascinated with bubbles, spherical creations that capture our breath and stir our imaginations. Blowing bubbles is fun, creating spheres that are inherently tranquil and whimsically bright that trigger feelings of gaiety and delight. Bubbles are temporary manifestations of jewels with smooth surfaces reflecting all the colors of a rainbow that automatically respond to the wisp of a breeze, like a butterfly or a child with a mind of their own, and the freedom to come and go as they please. Bubbles are airy and light fragile creations. The ones that I like best are those that remain buoyantly suspended—indefinitely, floating, drifting, defying gravity, and effortlessly sailing on air. I love a sudsy bubble bath that gives me time to think sentimental thoughts about those we love.
Why do bubbles always burst like temporary winning streaks that come to an end?
I was raised in a bubble, insulated and protected from danger and shielded from the truth and the unpleasant cold realities of the real world. I was raised with an idealistic notion of the greater community and a limited perception of human nature and the ways that people tend to behave naturally.
The age of reason, the years of discretion, and the glory years of moral discernment are analogous to distinct passages in time, the memories of each ephemeral phase of life encapsulated within a bubble of time with a beginning and an end with each transition leading to an expanded level of comprehension and appreciation of the world.
Bubbles are fragile and temporary and when a bubble bursts herein lies the death of a dream, or the life of another person. Bubbles never go away quietly. Someone’s illusions are always shattered and sense of well-being destroyed. Sometimes, it is the parents who willfully take proactive steps to force a child out of naiveté by egregiously bursting the bubble of youth, insensibility, and immaturity. And, when the bubble bursts, the cradle falls and down comes baby cradle and all. Other times, it is the child who bursts the bubble of complacency surrounding their adoptive parents when the parents discover that the adopted child for whom they have an abiding love and affection has initiated a vision quest as a right of passage to discover their natural place of origin and true self-identity. And when the adopted child discovers the identity and source of their birth parents and aggressively knocks down the door of transparency, the bubbles of secrecy, privacy, isolation, and solitude are collectively and simultaneously burst en masse in unpredictable ways.
Bubbles are capsules in time that define every stage of life. The bubbles we inhabit, the ones we choose to enter and the ones we exclude others from entering define our time on earth. We all experience feelings of immaturity, chaos, fear and instability and uncertainty followed by various stages of happiness, communication and periods of enlightenment. Bubbles are ephemeral points in time and space that define each phase of our life by offering portals to help us visualize the past and present and give us hope by providing insight into future trends leading to a better life. Bubbles are forever changing, growing, evolving and merging.
I sincerely hope there will be a need for fewer adoptions tomorrow than today because more birth parents will aspire to fortuitously hang in there for another day. I wish I could save and protect every child in need like a treasure in a bubble of time. I pray for those who seek transparency with a desire to resurrect, reconnect, and comprehend the events of yesteryear.
Adoption Detective: Memoir of an Adopted Child 
I can not share it in Twitter, the account is blocked