I googled the word imagination. It’s defined as the faculty or action of forming new ideas, images, or concepts of external objects not present to the senses. The ability of the mind to be creative or resourceful. Adequate, but to me, it seems a little lacking.

I don’t know whether we’re born with it or it develops over time. Maybe both things are true, although I never remember being without one. I did become more aware of it when I learned to read. Words printed on the pages of a book allowed pictures to spring to life in my mind.

One of my favorite authors discovered early on was Ray Bradbury. He embraced imagination, viewing it as the essential “miracle” of human existence and urging people to “stuff your eyes with wonder”.

I love all his books, but my favorites will always be Dandelion Wine and Something Wicked This Way Comes. Stories about two young boys. Jim Nightshade and Will Holloway share the kind of friendship that only comes along once in life. I was transported to Greentown, Illinois, in the 1930s. I met their family, had meals with them, and learned about life from them. He could put you there with words. It was magical.

I know some of you know what I mean. Words speak to you and always will. They transport you to the past and to the future, to places you’ve never been and to adventures you never expected.