Have you ever witnessed imagination? Has it ever given you a magical feeling, perhaps a tingling inside or has it ever been so tangible that you could almost touch it? Please, stay with me for a moment….
I truly did see imagination recently. No, not in my dreams upon resting my head on a feather pillow in the quiet of the night. Nor when I was alone, thinking silently to myself what I should begin to write. The imagination I’m speaking of took place in the out-of-doors where red maple trees grow tall at the base of my little forest land.
The cast of characters played on a stage of thick emerald grass. They consisted of my husband, our ‘Doodle’ dog, and my precocious grand-daughter of three and a half years. It’s important now to add the extra ‘half’ at the end of three. YOU understand. She was staying overnight together with her baby brother who I was feeding in a faded kitchen high chair, patterned in purple nursery rhymes.
Hearing screams of giggles and laughter, I looked out white double doors through panes of glass leading to the patio and beyond. Doodles was chasing the little one dressed in jeans, her head flopping to and fro in natural curls as she tumbled on the carpet of green. Grandpa picked her up by rubber heels to swing her back and forth while she shouted with glee. As I tended to my grandson, helping him spoon vanilla yogurt dribbling from his mouth, he pointed to the window. “Doo-Doos,” he smiled. “Doo-Doos outside.” Just then more shrieks began. In that moment I gazed at imagination in play.
My grand-daughter was on the left, near a tree dropping golden leaves. Falling…f.a.l.l.i.n.g. My husband stood a few yards away, clutching an imaginary string before he began to run around the yard, calling her to follow him. Smiles lit her face from within, pink as cotton candy on a day at the fair. She chased him around the yard with Doodles running alongside, barking through colored piles of leaves along the way.
Suddenly they stopped at a red maple tree. It appeared as though the string had gotten caught on a branch. Together they pulled and tugged, careful not to break such a delicate thing. Finally, my husband reached high in the sky, above wooden branches and hidden crinkled leaves to untangle what only they could imagine. Finally free, he handed it to my worried grand-daughter, who waited patiently below the tree.
Relieved, she beamed with joy, kissing her grandpa on a stubbled cheek. There, he helped her touch the colorful kite, careful not to snap its hidden Popsicle sticks or break the string of white. Together, they ran across the whole back of the yard, one last time before an open fist let their cherished kite fly free. Up…up…up it went behind clouds of white into the blue. As I watched from the warmth of my kitchen, I felt my heart sing from deep within my chest.
Never before did I love my husband more than on that very day. He inspired our little grand-daughter’s imagination to come alive. There’s no doubt in my mind that she believed everything about her Grandpa’s fantasy. She felt it and touched it, played with it and lived each and every special moment within her imagination.
As my nose began to crinkle like it always does before crying with sentimental joy I thanked God for a new blessing.
I witnessed imagination…..!