Often times, I wander into my imaginary bubble.
A picture of me in my "bubble" by my daughter.
A soft, quiet place where life feels gentler.
Kinder.
Safer.
In this bubble, every child has parents who stay. Parents who are present, involved, loving. No child wonders if they matter. No child falls asleep feeling abandoned.
In this bubble, children feel safe — inside their homes and outside of them. They can walk to school without fear. They can play outside until the streetlights come on. Their laughter fills neighborhoods instead of sirens.
There is food on the table. Nothing extravagant. Sometimes just a peanut butter and jelly sandwich cut into triangles. But it is enough. Enough to quiet hungry stomachs and remind children they are cared for.
In this bubble, education belongs to everyone. Girls do not have to fight for the right to learn. Every child gets the chance to dream, to discover who they are, to build a future.
In this bubble, there is no rape.
No teenage pregnancy.
No kidnapping.
No senseless killing.
There is no gun violence stealing childhoods before they even begin. No drugs destroying families. No alcohol tearing homes apart.
There are flowers everywhere. Trees that stretch endlessly toward the sky. Greenery that breathes life into cities and neighborhoods. Parks filled with children instead of loneliness.
The strange thing is — this bubble did not begin as imaginary for me.
Growing up, much of it was real.
I had parents who loved me deeply. I had a giant extended family. A village before we even used the phrase, “it takes a village.” There was always someone watching over us, guiding us, feeding us, correcting us, cheering for us.
We did not have luxury, but we had enough. Food on the table. A roof over our heads. Safety. Stability.
I walked back and forth from school without fear. The streets belonged to children back then. We knew neighbors. We knew community.
And the greenery — oh, there was so much of it. Greenery no matter in which direction I looked.
Now, that world feels farther away.
Now, it feels like a bubble I visit only in my imagination.
Because if that bubble truly existed everywhere, perhaps we would be living in a utopia.
Today, the streets often do not feel safe. Parents carry fears our parents never had to carry. Children grow up too quickly. Headlines steal innocence daily. And somehow, amid all our progress, much of the greenery has disappeared too — replaced by concrete, noise, and endless rushing.
Sometimes I wonder what my children’s imaginary bubble would look like.
Would it include things I took for granted?
Would safety even make their list?
Would they imagine a world without anxiety, social media pressure, school shootings, or loneliness?
Maybe every generation creates its own version of paradise based on what the real world failed to give them.
Today’s ramblings were inspired by the movie "Leave the World Behind". Watching it left me thinking about how fragile our sense of normalcy really is — and how deeply we all long for safety, connection, and humanity beneath it all.
So now I am curious.
What does your bubble look like?
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