The imaginarium

            Growing up, my backyard was pretty legit for the suburbs. It was a big hill that ended in a fence and then a small lake. This meant that you can run up and down the hill, and then when you are tired, its time to go fishing, right out of the backyard! My dad and I had a garden in our side yard, where we grew a bunch of delicious vegetables that I didn’t eat. I was a very picky eater when I was a little kid. Eventually though, my mother decided to redo our backyard, and completely ruin it for my childhood games. The terrace she added prevented me and my sister getting in our wagon and riding down and slamming into the fence at the bottom. The fountain in the middle made any further football or soccer games impossible. Even my dad’s garden that we spend so much time on was banished since it was not aesthetically appealing enough. Don’t get me wrong, I love my mother and she has excellent taste. The unfortunate part of this is that children do not care much about taste.

            There was one very positive benefit for me during this landscaping. When I came home from school, there was a giant pile of dirt in my backyard that stayed there for about a month. I would run up and down this huge pile of dirt and have the time of my life. I would get home from school, put on my cowboy boots, and go explore and see what had changed. The dirt came from digging up our yard, so as a result I found a plethora of lost treasures. I found a house key, many fun sticks that could be used for imaginary games, lots of “cool” rocks to put on display in my bedroom and even an arrowhead.

Looking back now, this pile of dirt was probably only slightly taller than I was at the time. That didn’t matter to me though. This was my imaginary wonderland. It was a battle field and a castle. It was a cave and a mountain. It was anything and everything that my young mind could imagine.