My childhood was magical.
We didn't have much money growing up, but my mom's imagination made us feel so rich. She would sew "twirly skirts' for me and my sister, and she would buy clearance dresses from JC Penney outlet so we could play dress up. And we put on SHOWS. Barefoot in the woods, creek walking in $12 polka dotted prom gowns. The birds were our alarm clocks and we were MAGIC.
I remember our big dress-up box full of hand-me-downs and outlet dresses. Peeks of material that didn't quite make it into the box fell softly over the sides as if summoning us..."Let's plaaaay!" And we would answer.
We'd open up the old dress-up box and stick our arms deep into the box and pull out clumps of tulle, and velvet, sequins, and stained cotton excited for the story this dress would help narrate.
Would we be princess warriors? Mermaids who grew legs for a day? Runaway maidens?
As soon as we slipped the cheap taffeta and tulle over our head, we became part of a magical story that often involved the cool earth squishing between our toes as we ran down the hill in the backyard to the woods.
We named sections of our forest. In "violet valley' we twirled and made violet necklaces and crowns as our twirly skirts and clearance gowns spread out and over the carpet of little purple flowers. We were princesses, you know.
In thorn alley, we'd hike up our skirts and try to walk slowly around thorn bushes trying hard not to impale our bare feet with thorns the size of a grown man's leg. Okay, Okay, maybe they weren't that big, but this is our story.
We would hop in the creek and walk all the way up to the old golf course and sneak in through a cut in the fence and run across the thick freshly cut grass and pretend this was our wonderland, and we had all the time in the world to live out our dreams.
We'd sing under the weeping willow and we'd eventually make our way back home, sun setting, with a new story added to our ever-growing chapters.
My mom fueled our imagination like this in all we did. From talent shows to contests, she inspired us and fanned the flames of our imagination.
We didn't have much, but boy were we rich. We were wrong, you know. Is about the whole never growing up thing? We did.
Awareness in life has a way to silence the joyful laughs we had in childhood. Responsibility and reality shush imagination as we enter 'the grind' and carry on, trying to forget the person we thought we'd be when we'd grow up.
But I couldn't. I had to find a way to keep my childhood imagination alive. So, I shop for tulle dresses with sequins and rainbows. I look for fun wigs and create characters my models can become. I literally relive my memories in every fun photoshoot I do. Because I believe in doing so, I'm never really growing up.
At least, I'm not leaving my inner child in an old dress-up box, tucked away in the basement of my memories. No, she comes along to every shoot. From colorful dresses and over-the-top props, I am keeping my promise to 'young me' that I will never really grow up.
I hope these girls never do, either.
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We'd open up the old dress-up box and stick our arms deep into the box and pull out clumps of tulle, and velvet, sequins, and stained cotton excited for the story this dress would help narrate.
Would we be princess warriors? Mermaids who grew legs for a day? Runaway maidens?
As soon as we slipped the cheap taffeta and tulle over our head, we became part of a magical story that often involved the cool earth squishing between our toes as we ran down the hill in the backyard to the woods.
We named sections of our forest. In "violet valley' we twirled and made violet necklaces and crowns as our twirly skirts and clearance gowns spread out and over the carpet of little purple flowers. We were princesses, you know.
In thorn alley, we'd hike up our skirts and try to walk slowly around thorn bushes trying hard not to impale our bare feet with thorns the size of a grown man's leg. Okay, Okay, maybe they weren't that big, but this is our story.
We would hop in the creek and walk all the way up to the old golf course and sneak in through a cut in the fence and run across the thick freshly cut grass and pretend this was our wonderland, and we had all the time in the world to live out our dreams.
We'd sing under the weeping willow and we'd eventually make our way back home, sun setting, with a new story added to our ever-growing chapters.
My mom fueled our imagination like this in all we did. From talent shows to contests, she inspired us and fanned the flames of our imagination.
We didn't have much, but boy were we rich. We were wrong, you know. Is about the whole never growing up thing? We did.
Awareness in life has a way to silence the joyful laughs we had in childhood. Responsibility and reality shush imagination as we enter 'the grind' and carry on, trying to forget the person we thought we'd be when we'd grow up.
But I couldn't. I had to find a way to keep my childhood imagination alive. So, I shop for tulle dresses with sequins and rainbows. I look for fun wigs and create characters my models can become. I literally relive my memories in every fun photoshoot I do. Because I believe in doing so, I'm never really growing up.
At least, I'm not leaving my inner child in an old dress-up box, tucked away in the basement of my memories. No, she comes along to every shoot. From colorful dresses and over-the-top props, I am keeping my promise to 'young me' that I will never really grow up.
I hope these girls never do, either.
