Sunday, September 1, 2013
I was always sort of a day dreamy kid. I feel like much of my childhood was spent in two worlds--reality and the fantasy world in my head. I created disaster plots for paper dolls to survive, romances for Ken and Barbie, adventures in the old west for me and my sister to dress up and act out. We were mermaids, teachers, Olympians and circus performers. My backyard trees spoke to me, my dolls were actually alive and I believed Peter Pan would one day take me to Never Never Land. In fact, one night as I was trying to fall asleep, I swore I saw Tinkerbell's glimmer in my closet. Imagine my disappointment when I realized it was only the street lamp reflecting off my closet rod. Occasionally reality collided with the fantasy world and I had to acknowledge it.
Drifting off to other worlds continued into my elementary years. In third grade, I decided that I was adopted and that my long lost twin sister was my best friend. I also decided that my pretty teacher was my real mom. I put pen to paper (several papers actually) and wrote a small book about my discovery. The book had chapters, a couple pictures (although drawing has never been my strong point), and I put it in a binder.
I still think I have it in a drawer somewhere.