On Our Endless Imaginations

And Its Limitless Possibilities.

In spite of the timeless warnings about judging books by their covers, our uniquely human, innate ability to devise extra/ordinary explanations about other people's lives is what makes our existence that much more exciting. The 50-something, handsome executive with red roses in hand on his way to apologize for unkind words / forgotten birthdays / mis-prioritized weekend plans. The tearful teenager just abandoned by her first love. The weary patrons in hospital scrubs who undoubtedly spend hours holding hands of patients whose mothers / neighbors / best friends are called into work unexpectedly but promise to return before visiting hours end. The young child silently sucking his thumb while inquisitively taking in his surroundings falls asleep each night to the echoes of bedtime stories about cowboys and unicorns, alternately shared by his parents who never fight. The hunched old man whose fractured steps would falter without the assistance of his intricately-carved, wooden cane - a gift from his WWII comrade - consumed by memories of his boyhood in Colorado where he skipped rocks, climbed trees, and obediently tended to family chores. And that thin, tall, shaggy-haired friend-of-a-friend, the perfect father to my unborn children evident in his posture which intimates 400-page historic novels read by firelight and daydreams, identical to my own, about slumber parties under star-filled country skies. Oh, imagination, how dull the world would be without you. Enjoy!