8 July 2008

a fresh look

With young eyes. What do we see?

A dinosaur in a tree. The clouds to dance upon and raindrops to dance between.
Our parents, who know everything.
All the tiny, moving things that live amongst us on the ground.
The rings, and trinkets and holy stones, which others dropped so carelessly.



These are our magic years.

Grown up now, with watch, wallet, and papers to prove I actually did something after I turned 18, I still get
a glimpse of all those things. You probably know to whom the credit should go…


Here’s my random list of childhood magic:

  • Firmly believe there’s a room in the house or a piece of the garden I haven’t seen yet. (I sometimes still dream of Escher-like hallways and stairs at night).
  • To move silent as a cat, fast a horse and light as a butterfly.
  • To pull out Excalibur with a single hand. (Thank heavens this wish has not been granted. The previous one neither, now I come to think of it. The first one? Who is ever, ever going to be sure? Just believe).
  • To see the beauty of yellow + blue.
  • A caleidoscope.
Would you share yours with me?

3 comments:

nicolette said...

Wonderful childhood magic.

The most happy and magic times were spent at my grandparents house, who both inspired me and let me be a child. My omi could look at me with such joy, I felt very special and loved. They both learned me how important it is to use your creativity. They learned me to paint, to make ceramics, all the names of the flowers and plants in their garden. I can still remember the smell of their home, the sounds of the doors and the clockwork, the singing of my Omi, the jokes my grandpa told, I felt loved. They believed in my dreams of becoming a ballet dancer, a musician or an architect.

driftwood shack said...

I have lots of magic here-
there's magic in the pond, the strawberry pots, the seed trays,the washing line, the spy gadgets(don't tell anyone!)and definitely in my cooking-so I'm told!

Ballee said...

Sorry, even in het NL:
Wat een ontzettend prachtige post is dit. Dank je wel!

Mijn magic moments:
Iedere zondagochtend trokken mijn zusje en ik onze zwarte lange sokken/kousen aan (net als op de prenten van de zweedse tekenaar/schilder waar ik de naam even niet meer van weet, kan het voor je opzoeken). De klassieke muziek klonk van beneden, mijn moeder had alleen op zondag klassieke muziek aan, en wij riepen boven aan de trap: "Kokkin, is het ontbijt al klaar?". We zaten nml op een kostschool, iedere zondag, en onze moeder was de kokkin. Gelukkig speelde ze mee :)