Today I was reminded how much I relied on my imagination as a kid and less on television and media. Did I watch tv as a kid? Of course! But not before roaming the woods, yards and homes of the neighborhood. I grew up outside and I am so thankful for that. I remember when we first got a computer. While I did play on it, the outside was still more appealing. I could run barefoot, climb fallen trees, follow the creeks and build forts. I can still remember at my first home setting the blanket out in the back yard and taking naps.
Sometimes my imagination would also get me into trouble. I remember freaking myself out and staying on top of the swing-set. I must have thought there was a snake or something. I expected my parents to rescue me, but I eventually got hungry and decided to go inside. Then, one time in Virginia I decided to ride my bike and keep on riding until miles and miles away, my chain got jammed. After walking for hours back to my grandparents on the side of the road, their neighbors spotted me and drove me the rest of the way.
I remember building huge forts in Snellville. The woods became a huge castle and I discovered room after room. At my home in Cumming I decided to build trails that would go around the whole neighborhood. For years I planned a treehouse that never came to fruition. The one project that me and the neighborhood kids rallied together on was at an empty lot in the neighborhood which I had decided needed to be our fort. We called it Fort Magarabe. I think I decided that it meant “Camp Sunrise” in Swahili.
I miss my imagination. I think much of it left in the latter middle school years and early high school years. I think many people spend the rest of their lives trying to rediscover the euphoria that came along with their childhood imagination. Most people never find it.