The lawn stretches out before you, and I recognize that expression. I see it in your eyes. It seems so vast. So full of possibility. Almost overwhelmed by the sheer joy of it, you do the only thing that makes sense to your perfect little mind. You run. You run as fast as your legs can carry you. I watch; as I watch you something stirs inside. For a moment the walls of time have become paper thin. You run in the place where I once ran. I watch you, and am 100% certain I’m standing in a place where she once stood watching me. A squeal of laughter bubbles out of you. It springs from your belly and goes skipping and dancing along the wind. For a moment I can almost my own laughter echoing back to us through an eddy on the ocean of time. I can almost see myself running beside you.

This lawn was many things for me once upon a time. A battlefield. A forest. A dark cave where dragons dwelt. I spent many solitary hours on this lawn making up stories and going on adventures, with a chipped wooden sword strapped to by back by a length of frayed rope. I remember feeling strong. Clever. Capable. All qualities I wasn’t sure I possessed in the real world. If I’m being honest, I was also a little lonely. I had friends, but not many that didn’t outgrow a need to make believe every once in a while. This most earnest passion of my childhood I kept to myself. I made up companions to go on these adventures with me. Like toys in a toy box, they were ready to fight by my side whenever I called on them.

This place I once called ‘home’ is a sad, pale version of what it was in my youth. Coming back evokes frustration and anxiety more than it does fond memory. I’m not the nicest or most patient person when I have to come back. I don’t find much beauty here anymore.

And yet.

This lawn is still beautiful. The grass and trees still hold a certain magic suffused from hours of imagination and play. Standing here, watching you run I can’t help but wonder: what stories do you tell? What adventures to you seek? I never once imagined a story where I would one day share this place with you; I’m glad that I have. Like so many things, you make the world new and wondrous. Such is the gift of parenthood that can’t be explained. Only felt.