Every time I visit my grandmother, she brings me to the store across from her house and buys me a bubble wand. Like all the other 3 year olds, I didn’t know how to blow, instead, I spit on it. I remember my grandmother’s laugh that I couldn’t understand and the bubbles that surrounded me. Far away from my grandmother, I wanted to play it again, so my mom bought it for me this time. As I held the wand in my hand, my eagerness for something didn’t decrease. It’s at that moment that I realized, what I wanted were not the bubble wands, it was my grandmother, who fulfilled my childhood.