The texture on the office wall reminded me of when I was a kid and how I’d follow its dimension on sleepless nights. I’d scamper across its hills and valleys with nothing more than a knapsack over my shoulder.
I’d trek the ridgelines of the familiar over the shapes I’d conquered and to the features I’d made mine. And I’d stand in its unknown territories, questioning what a long gap might mean for my fate.
Laying like a king ruling its domain, I’d feel a sense of completion in taking the wall’s unruly subjects, shaking their hands, and bending them to my will.
I’ll sometimes drop the imaginative cloak from childhood and wonder where I put it. And in the in-between spaces, I’m sure I grieve for its return with long sighs and faraway looks.
Because how can you not long for something so magical?
I once wrote a story about a land of make-believe that exists only when a sprinkler makes a rainbow with sunlight. I recall finding the words to create that land felt like choking – my once strong ability had atrophied.
My daughter’s now entered the land of make-believe. And her reminder is likely the reason why I’m traipsing back into it myself.
And I gotta admit, I think it’s an excellent place to be.
2 thoughts on “Imagine Wagons”
love this. I was an odd kid, I lived in the forest near our house with all my make believe fairies and friends. I felt safe there. I too occasionally enter that place again when I need some space. Its kinda nice to know I am not that strange really…😘Kim G
That sounds like an awesome place you have there. Imagination is so freaking cool!