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On a breezy spring day, my mother carried me into the backyard in a laundry basket. To me it was a boat, a flying boat. I left my vessel to explore the hedge maze formed by the linens she hung from the clothesline. My mother's sense of whimsy made such daily chores an adventure. I learned quickly that sometimes a chair was actually a horse or a motorcycle.
It was a hot summer day in Hinkley, Minnesota, when went into the house for a drink. I asked my Grandmother for a glass. She searched the cupboards for a particular glass. The bottom of the glass was pressed into a pattern mimicking cut crystal. She held it up to her eye and proclaimed it to be a perfect viewing glass. I took the glass and filled it with water from the tap before returning to my play. Upon emptying the glass, I brought it up to my eye and saw the landscape swirl into a kaleidoscope of light.
To weak to sit at the kitchen table, my Aunt rested in her room. Needing a distraction she invited me to sit with her. "Tell me a story," she would say. Sometimes she would ask for a story about a particular animal or some special place. Other times she would ask me to draw something for her suggesting details or miss-matched parts. Although I was told little about her health I had sensed that she was not long for the world. I told the best stories I could, carefully noting all of her favorite things to feature in my next tale.
When I had children of my own, I was able to relive the magic of story telling. They also helped me realize how important story telling is to the process of developing a healthy imagination.
Moments such as these drove to share stories throughout my life. I would like to thank my mother, grandmother, aunt, and my children for their inspiration. I hope that you enjoy reading my work as much as I enjoy creating it.