When I was young I had all sorts of friends. Big friends, little friends, furry friends, ones with wings and feathers, tails and claws. They were all so different, yet they all loved me as I loved them. Made of wisps of winds, dewdrops and rainbows. They were the best friends a young girl could have.
A little older I had other friends. Dragons, witches, warlocks, elves. Also wolves, tigers, unicorns and fairies. They were mythical friends from lands that were magical and wonderous. They lived in trees and flowers, under bushes of green. In great caves filled with crystals and light. They talked and laughed and told me stories of great delight.
Then my teen years came and with them I had other friends. Ones that made me think and ponder. They filled me with hopes and dreams of lands far away. Made me want to learn new languages and dream bigger dreams. They asked me questions which I had to deeply think of answers to. They wanted me to seek more and more of things I did not know.
Then came later friends. Friends who were mysterious and full of secrets. Friends who made me question myself, yet made me stronger. Friends who gave me life riddles to find answers to. Friends who helped shape me into a person who always finds the answers to questions she didn’t even know existed. They were friends that kept me whole and sane when my world was insane and full of chaos.
Now, all my friends have converged into a ring of familiarity. One of love and acceptance. They have all played a part in shaping how I think and what I do. They all have shown me that my mind is made of great things. They have taught me that my imagination is my greatest friend of all. Even though all my friends were born out of that imagination does not make them less. It makes them more.
When I put words in my writings. When I have ideas and create worlds that are new and different, I give silent thanks to ALL my friends. My imaginary friends. The ones that are with me still, because Imagination has no age.