The Amazing Power of the Childhood Imagination

When you close your eyes and try to remember your earliest memories, what do you see? Think about your first real memories, the ones that fit together and make more sense than the mere glimpses of moments snatched from early childhood. What do you remember of the time you became aware, really aware of what was happening in the world around you?

My first real memories, the ones that make sense, are memories of the dismantling of my family.

I remember sitting on the living room floor surrounded by folded laundry. I remember my mom rolling socks into a ball, the little footy-type socks with a fuzzy ball just above the heel. She was packing our clothes, preparing for us to leave.

We boarded a Greyhound bus headed for Pennsylvania. I remember nervous excitement at the thought of traveling. With my sister sitting next to me, I spent hours staring out the window of the bus as the country rolled past. When the night fell and the scenery was cloaked in darkness, my sister and I would imagine that the lights in the distance were trains carrying travelers to faraway places. We made up songs about these faraway travelers, and country-style songs about runaway puppies.

We made up stories. We giggled and laughed. At one point, I remember that I wet my pants. I was embarrassed and worried that the pee would roll down the center aisle of the bus. It didn't, but I was embarrassed and worried anyway.

The one thing that strikes me about these memories now that I'm an adult is just how resilient children are in the face of tragedy. What should have been a terribly sad time for my sister and me is remembered with a smile for both of us. My parents were divorcing. I wouldn't see my brothers again for nearly six years. Of course, I didn't realize all of that at the time. But what I did realize was that we were traveling across the country to find a new home in a new state in a part of the country I had never been to before. I was excited. I was glad to be with my sister. And when things were uncertain, maybe even a little scary, my imagination took over, embedding in my mind memories that make me smile when there should be tears.

In the long, long run of this story, things turned out for the best for our family. Both of my parents found love again. I gained a step-father who loved and raised my sister and me as his own. I have developed a wonderful relationship with my father and today he is one of my greatest cheerleaders. Eventually, I was reunited with my brothers. Now we have great relationships; I consider them among my best friends. I would say that I have been very fortunate.

What I take from these early memories is the amazing power and resilience of the childhood imagination. And now, when things get uncertain, maybe even a little scary, I can try to tap into that power to escape, if only for a moment.