Pure Imagination

Imagination is a gift that few people can claim. Sometimes, if they are lucky, it can slip out into whatever medium they use to express themselves. A stroke of a paintbrush, the lines in a dancer’s body, and the words on a page often serve as window to the soul. Then there are those who will never need more than their mind. They can slip into their own world no matter where they are, never needing more than the will to do so. My little sister is one of those people. From a young and tender age, she was never tied down to reality. The rules of this world were irrelevant. She could be and do whatever her heart could dream up. Looking past the limits of the impossible, she found something magical; she found a freedom that few will ever enjoy.

As a child, my mother found it difficult to punish my sister for her wrong doings. Unlike with most children, taking away her favorite toy had no effect. Twigs, rocks, small household items, and even shoelaces served her purpose. Each would take on a role in her elaborate games of make-believe that sometimes would span for weeks at a time. To her, that rock was a princess, who in a moment of bravery had charged off on a quest to break the curse that was plaguing her lifelong friend. Racing to the river, she would become trapped by an angry troll, who today would be played by a fork. Calling on the powers of the rainbow, she could thwart the fiend and proceed, once more, on her journey. That rock would battle every monster in the book, and a few only known to my sister, each with a unique set of skills.

Even when she was not holding anything solid, you can be sure that she was still playing some game. In her beautiful mind, she had built a whole world for her and her friends to play. Though no one could see them, I truly believe that at least to her, they were really there. George, Fred, James, Susan, Kathy, Michael, the three Lulu sisters, and countless others, all lived in a realm full of magic and adventure.Sometimes she would take my hand and guide me to her world. Though I did my best, it was never more than a silly game to me. Though I could play along like most kids do, I don't think I was truly seeing it the way she was. I always had one foot firmly planted on my bedroom floor, keeping me anchored to the real world. I do not know what Gorge looked like, and I think she did. As I grew older, I began to resent her and her silly games. I did not want to play make-believe anymore. I was too grown up for such a childish pastime. When would she learn to wake up? At one point, she would come back to reality. Being the sister I was, I began to tell her such things. I called her a baby and dumb. When she would ask me to play with her, I would tell her simply to just grow up already.

I regret that more than many other choices I have made in life. After a while of my torment, she began to take my words to heart. She stopped wanting me to play her games with her. In that act, I lost a closeness with her that I may never get back. Pretty soon her games stopped altogether. I had told her to grow up, and she was listening. However, I don't think she could every truly let go. Every now and then, I see that look in her eye, and I know that her mind has separated itself from this world and is doing something grand. She may not play with rocks and forks, but she still has the power to dream. I believe that the power to truly feel and see the world in your own way is the greatest power of all; it is the power of pure imagination.