I was with my kids at the park as we go from tree to tree. One is my house. One is her house. One is his house. We’re playing neighbors, having ice cream, and cooking s’mores on a fire. None of these things exist.
It dawned on me for a moment: I wish I could see what they see. Where did it go - my constant imagination? It’s in there somewhere, the place where there’s no difference between dream and reality. The joy they feel at make believe Disneyland (the playground) and real Disneyland is in many degrees the same.
This is all because of their imagination. I’m grateful to have kids show me the many uses for a boring twig: a wand; a walking stick; a s’mores roaster; a knob to open a secret gate to the house; a portal to another world…
_________________________
Bryan lives somewhere at the intersection of faith, fatherhood, and futurism and writes about tech, books, Christianity, gratitude, and whatever’s on his mind. If you liked reading, perhaps you’ll also like subscribing: