Such a simple and powerful word that brings insane imagery to my mind the moment I think of it.
I think of all the things that call out to me as a dreamer. A reader. A writer. A poet.
Most of all, it brings out my inner child and the creative, imaginative side of my brain begins to tingle.
I think of all the adventures I’ve had in the world of fiction as well as the real world.
I remember growing up at Hogwarts with Harry, Ron and Hermione. I remember falling down the rabbit hole and exploring Wonderland with Alice. I remember fighting in the wars with the Pevensies and saving Narnia.
I remember running around on the road when I was younger pretending I had magical powers and it was time to save the world again. I remember having the best of times with all 55 of my imaginary friends. It’s insane how I still remember all of their names.
People ask me why I love children so much. I believe they’re so pure and genuine and so unbelievably real. They display all these characteristics which we often outgrow and lose at a young age. They have the most creative of imaginations, each child’s world so unique and magical. Society and it’s ways of thinking hasn’t corrupted their precious minds and they can be whatever they want to be, do what they want to, and they care so much.
Their hearts and minds are full of wonder.
The kind of wonder which adults can’t always understand and appreciate.
They make me happy. They give me hope. They give me motivation. They ignite a spark in me that makes me want to be the best version of myself that I can be. And they make me want to make the world a better place. They make me want to do good and be good.
Human beings fascinate me.
And the little ones bring me great joy.
I hope to be someone they can look up to.