If I Was Eleven….

The world of the artist is filled with imagination. The kind of imagination children still have, even at age eleven.

Somewhere along the way, that creative expression, stops. The imagination gets shoved away, packed up, boxed up tight. Then hauled up into the attic.

Its expected.

 

 

 

 

 

 

But, if I was eleven……..

I’d play in the forest shadows again, splash in the river streams, search for minnows and bright colored stones.  I’d race my horse across the fields, jumping the logs laughing like mad.  And dash her through the river, swimming across the deepest cool channels.  On a hot summer’s day, I’d grab onto the rope swing and fling myself into the depths of lake.

Because I could, because it was … fun. Because I was Eleven!

 

 

 

 

 

 

If I was eleven….

I’d find my box of crayons again and draw on the biggest pieces of paper I could find. I’d draw on sidewalks, fences and walls… even if, that’s called “graffiti” to some.   I’d color my hair gold, then indigo purple, and back to chestnut brown.  Then, all 3 at once!

 

 

 

 

 

If I was eleven…..

I’d make sure that once in awhile, I remembered, to tell my family I really did love them.   I’d play more Scrabble with my great grandmother.  I’d walk over to my grandmother’s,  right next door,  more often than the occasional visit. I’d ask her about what it was like for her, way back then …. when They were eleven.

 

 

 

If I was eleven…..

I’d live each moment like there was no tomorrow, like every second counted…. because when you are eleven,  that is just how it seems to be.

And when you are a lot older, well, every moment really does count then too. You appreciate those treasury of memories of when you were eleven.

 

 

 

 

 

 

happy 11th  birthday T