Special Places/Magical Objects
I remember my friends and I “discovering” a piece of land at the end of our street. I must have been around eight or nine at the time. We stumbled upon it after school one afternoon, and it felt like we had gone back in time. Looking back as an adult, I don’t remember it being a particularly exceptional place- it must have just been the newness of it, or maybe because it was all overgrown with tall grass and felt, somehow, wild. Whatever the reason, it was magical. I don’t remember a lot of details about the place, but I still, even all these years later, get a feeling when I think about it. It’s the same feeling I get when I think back on how I loved to sit under a desk in my parents room, listening to the melancholy music coming from my jewelry box. It was a fabric-covered box that had a little plastic ballerina inside. You could wind a crank in the back and the ballerina would spin ‘round and ‘round as the music played. Oh, how I loved to wind it up over and over again, tears streaming down my cheeks! I think the music was the theme from “A Love Story”. It might seem strange that this would be a fond memory but it is.
My daughter just turned 20 months old, and I can see that she has already found a "special place" for herself. My bedside table is filled with an assortment of objects that I have thrown in there over the years. It’s mostly cards exchanged between my husband and myself . There are also a few photographs, ticket stubs, and other random things that I want to keep but have never gotten around to organizing. I love to watch her eyes light up as she holds and examines each object as if for the very first time. I’ll tell her, again, who’s in the picture or what’s on the card, and she'll listen in rapt attention. It’s become something of a morning ritual. It never gets old for her.
It’s that sense of wonder over the ordinary that I love to observe in her. Having a young child helps to bring back a little of that magic for me, even if only filtered through her eyes.