Gift Of Imagination Essay

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The Gift of Imagination “GRAM” I clamored while my mom struggled to get my squirming body into my favorite princess dress. After the last button on my dress was fashioned my handful of cheerios flung in the air with excitement as I ran to the door to greet my grandmother for our weekly visit. “Hello Miss Megan, or should I say my royal highness” she said with a playful smile, promoting my fantasy. I curtseyed to her and then ran to the kitchen to grab another handful of snacks. I plopped down on the floor cradling the Cheerio box in my lap. I watched my mom and grandma share hushed conversation near the door way, followed by a lingering hug. “Gram, I have a royal decree for you!” I said probing for her attention. Playing into every whim of…show more content…
I was never one for dresses except for on the days where I was ruling my kingdom. After a short struggle she gave up on the dress and threw me into nice pants and black top. My mother was tired and weary, she had no time or energy to go against me. My mother never really took the time to explain to me what was going on- I was too young I wouldn’t understand anyways. I assume she was just trying to cope with things herself so I used my imagination to fill in the gaps. After she finished tying my last shoe I checked out my outfit in the mirror. I slipped on a pair of my mother’s sun glass I became Megan Thomas, secret agent. She pulled me away from the mirror were I was building my fantasy and dragged me to the car. My mother strapped me into my car seat and we left for my…show more content…
“She is just out of batteries” I told myself. In this moment I didn’t understand the enormity of the situation, I just simply thought she needed to recharge. I didn’t comprehend the masses of sobbing family and friends around me. I assumed this problem had a simple solution. My grandmother’s absence made sense to me in that moment. The fantasies my grandmother made for me provided me with a sort of shelter from the problems of the real world. My grandmother knew I would never understand her terminal illness or why she wasn’t around anymore. Our tales and adventures gave me understanding. She saved me grief and heartbreak by simply playing into my imagination. She redefined the real world into terms that a young child could understand. Although my grandmother’s strength faded over time her imagination always stayed strong. Her imagination will always be a memory I carry with me and a characteristic I will try and always possess

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