Every child has that certain place where their imagination can run wild. There is that place where they can just be kids; a place to defeat monsters and go on epic adventures with friends. For me, that place was my back yard. The one-and-one-half acres of flowing green grass, alive with the sound of chirping birds, barking dogs, and the occasional roar of our neighbor's hot rod as it zoomed down the drive, sparked the imagination of my brother and me. There was always a new type of bug to be caught or a new location for our hideout. Little did we know, as we were hacking through the prickly yet oddly soft pine needles of the row of trees that separated two yards, that we were making memories. Imaginations flew wild as we created our sanctuary from the big dogs that lived next door. As we grew older, soon losing interest in the capture of the little, innocent insects and conquering our fear of the dogs, our attention was diverted to the flowing waters of the Black River that formed the back boundary of our yard. The seemingly endless stream of water captivated our interests as we fished, attempted the construction of a stone bridge across the river, or simply skipped rocks over the murky water. We were no longer boys in our back yard, but avid explorers in a dense jungle. As I am writing this, I have come to realize that the imagination does wonders. The simple and ordinary can be transformed into complex battlegrounds and extraordinary places for adventure with a simple flick of an imaginary wand.
February 26, 2009