When I was a little girl, I had the best imagination. I loved playing house, having adventures outside, making my own paper dolls, I loved all of it. I remember there were certain things I told my childhood self that I would have as an adult and some of them are still on my list. I still want children, just maybe not twelve. I always wanted a dog, now I have two. My husband was going to be handsome, strong and love me even when I mess up. I think I did well in that department.
I don't, however, want to be a stay at home mom or a teacher (intergalactic princess maybe). I don't want pink hair or my room painted black. There will probably never be a polar bear sleeping at the foot of my bed.
My imagination remains mostly intact, but now I imagine a life without bills and car troubles and a house with a fenced in yard, a two car garage, a dishwasher, all in a good school district. I picture family trips to Disneyland and visit grandparents with a curly headed moppet in the back seat with doggies on either side of him. There are dreams of holidays with tons of family and laughter and hustle and bustle.
Sometimes I still wish for the days of running around with a dishtowel as a cape but then I roll out of bed and put on the equivalent of a big girl cape (high heels) and it's off to work I go, to make my dreams come true.