“It’s definitely a fort,” he says.
“No, it’s a castle,” she says.
“What’s the difference anyway?” the son-in-law steps in.
They google it and she smiles.
“It’s definitely a castle,” she says as she pictures future grandchildren dressed as princesses in tiaras and fairy wings, or brave knights slaying dragons from turreted heights.
It’s just a little paved area he’s created in the backyard, a platformed terrace they’ll grow a vine over. Yet it could be so much more!
A platform for dreams and imagined play. Of whole new worlds, where things are fresh and new and fun, and stories grow and twist like vines into the fabric of hearts and beings.
Where bugs are curiously studied, mud pies are baked, and questions are voiced about anything and everything. Where beds are made under the stars, and little heartbeats settle safe and secure as they’re wrapped up in warm blankets, strong arms and love.
She’s cleaning out the hallway cupboard and a broken bag spills old costumes on the floor. Shapeless fabrics that wait to be embodied, entered. She needs some new storage containers to place them into. Maybe she’ll make room for more in this hallway space for containers of imagination. For creative fun and inspiration, not just for little souls she can’t wait to meet, but for her soul to breathe and grow. For to create, to imagine, is to touch the transcendent, to connect with the Creator who imagined it all.
He stated that if the first grandchild is a boy, it’s a fort, a girl, it’s a castle, but whatever it is, it will be a platform that steps into and launches creative imagination, enters heavenly spaces and reaches out of this world places, all in our backyard.