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My Great Grandpa V used to take me by the hand when I was just a very little girl and walk me towards the lake he lived on, right next to my Grandpa. He would tell me a story about a big whopper of a fish - it was almost as big as the whole lake! And I believed him!
Now I take my little granddaughter by the hand and lead her through the Enchanted Woods that I forged from the forest behind my home, and I tell her amazing things about a wood elf, and fairies that dance around the toadstool ring, and the colorful swirling colored bench where rainbows come from, and the Dragon Lair where a very friendly dragon lives and always calls out - HEY LADY!!! (at least that is what I hear when I walk passed it.) There is a rest stop where the grass is as soft as a bed, then a little further on there is a bouncy tree bent to the ground that she can play on.
My grandpa used to tell me that I must have found another soft centered nail when the hammer I was using to pound nails into a piece of wood would bend the nail - and I thought there really were soft centered nails until sometime last week, I think. I could have figured it out sooner, but time flies when you are remembering the sweetness of love stories.
Are these things lies, these little tales that my Grandpa, my Great Grandpa V, and I told and tell. No - they are gifts. The gift of imagination.
My grandma gave me a big metal spoon and a few metal pots and let me sit outside and bang and clang and make as much noise as a little girl could with such basic tools - and it was quite a lot.
Some things never change, and I will never forget the gifts I have been given.
