the power of imagination

When I was a kid--and we're talking elementary school age here--waking up on Christmas morning was actually magical. We're talking actual, unearthly, shivers up your spine magic. In fact, that still ranks as the most fantastical and wonder-filled experience of my life, most likely never to be equaled. Does this ring a bell to anybody?

Back when I was new to the world, it all was a vast unknown. Because I didn't know all the rules yet, it felt like anything could happen. I had only had time to learn of a small fraction of what there was out there, so it was more common for things to happen that were completely beyond explanation: a shooting star, growing flowers, water flowing up into the yard from the sump pump, cardboard boxes that turned into miniature houses... magic. I came to expect things like that any time, which is an incredible state of mind to exist in. On top of that, imagination used to be so much more vivid and important. I used to be able to spin fairy tales around anything to give it extra color. It was so clear in my mind that it was as good as real. Our backyard really did used to be an enchanted kingdom. My little brother really could turn into a dog named Benji. I really did ride out a hurricane at sea on our couch cushions, with hammerhead sharks circling around the little boat threatening to eat us. I've been a slave whose sole purpose in life was to walk back and forth collecting rocks from the shore. I've been a telepathic alien living on a space ship. I've discovered the ruins of a scientist's lab and set out on a quest to discover what he was trying to hide. I've been an evil witch named Lorna who carries a blue wand and lives on an asteroid, plotting along with other evil witches and wizards. I've mixed plenty of potions. I've blown up bombs. I've met little people the size of my thumb. Those are memories that stay with me, as real or more real than any of my other memories from that age.
As a child, I had godlike powers to create whole worlds on a whim, exactly how I wanted to see them, to give them whatever rules I wanted, and make whatever happen that seemed the most exciting.

Santa Clause was an extra special case of imagination, because the grown-ups actually collaborated to reinforce the reality of it.
It's harder to pretend about anything now. In fact, it's pretty much impossible. Some people take classes on it--acting and creative writing, or whatever. But it'll never, ever be the same.

I used to live in an entirely different world then than I do now. I've solved and explained away most of the mysteries already. I have more responsibilities. I worry more. The real world has consumed me and my mind. It seems to be interesting enough in itself that it no longer needs embellishment. We don't play anymore!

Here's to little kids with vibrant, imaginative lives. May we be able to at least remember what it was like.