Imaginations are limited.
Some people dream in miniscule detail. But reality in all its color and depth cannot be fully or completely imagined.
I imagined one day the girls growing up. Maybe the girls would be carpenters or electricians; in hard hats and work boots. Maybe they’d work at a beauty salon, cutting hair and enjoying the pleasure of small talk all day long.
I imagined them close as grown-up sisters, or in their language, in sistee-hood. The kind of sisters that text daily. Even as children, they’ve already chatted about getting an apartment together as a part of their post-parented life.
But more than anything I imagined for, I imagined them as people who would be thoughtful. People that would be tough enough to travel life’s big roads and sensitive enough to be open to its smallest intimacies. People who enjoyed life’s bumps: savoring the ups and surviving the downs.
I still imagine this for the girls.
But today the blurry edges of imagination are becoming more defined.
Naturally, the girls are more like other children than different to other children. They are no better than other kids and deserve no better, but they already have the uniqueness that their parents are the first to see. That uniqueness that someday their best friends will see. That uniqueness that one day they will share with the love of their lives.
