Holding on to Childishness

Red and I were blowing bubbles on the veranda today. Watching them float away and burst on cars and trees, laughing and giggling like little girls. That’s how I imagined it anyway, and it made me feel good. So, we talked about it.

Red: If only we had a veranda!

Kathy: Well, we do in my imagination.

Red: Fat lot of good that does us! (chuckling)

Kathy: Hey! Don’t knock imagination. That’s your hometown.

Red: Oh, yeah. Right. Huh?

Kathy: Mmm, hmm. And let’s face it – if I were more of a grownup you wouldn’t even be here.

Red: (looking quizzical now) What do you mean?

Kathy: Well, I’m just a big kid. You know it. I know it and anyone who spends more than a day around me figures it out.

Red: Still, I don’t get it. What’s the connection?

Kathy: Well, I think it’s the child in all creatives that lets loose with the storytelling, the art making, the musical ecstasies. The adult imagination is great for quantum physics and figuring out the financial bottom-line, but it’s the kid that gets into the paints and swooshes them around and the kid who tells wild, crazy, unbelievable lies that one day become a blockbuster movie.

Red: (tilting her head sideways) I guess you’re right. But in the real world childishness “don’t get no respect” (now mimicking Rodney Dangerfield).

Kathy: (laughing) No, you’re right. If you told most people they were acting like a kid, they’d be insulted. Me? I’d probably say, “Great! Must have a story about to break through.”

Red: So, we can still blow bubbles?

Kathy: Sure, but after that – let’s play jacks.

Red: Okay. What if I win?

Kathy: I’ll let you pick the next game.

Red: Deal! Pass me the bottle of bubbles.