Photo: On a plane

There's a picture on my desk. Three towheaded children are playing on a back porch with ugly green fake-turf surfacing. The youngest, a pink-cheeked, long-haired one-year-old boy wearing a striped blue and white hoody, balances in the middle of a bright red Fisher Price airplane/teeter-totter/merry-go-round, hands firmly gripping the steering wheel. On the teeter-totter's high wing sits the middle child, three years old and dressed in a light pink sweatshirt and sweatpants (probably hand-me-downs from her older sister since pink is not a colour she usually picks out to wear), peeking out from a considerably well-looked-after (for her) mane of slightly-tangled blond hair. From her half-guilty looking glance at the camera, one can only guess what mischief she was involved in before playing on the porch. On the low wing of the plane is the oldest sister, age six. Her legs are crouched and her pointy knees show she is growing out of the airplane teeter-totter (although she will still play on it with her siblings and younger cousins for years to come). She's wearing a wide, big-sisterly Jack-o'Lantern grin, pink leggings that come halfway up her calves, and a baggy pink sweater with an intricate design. A neon-yellow plastic ribbon is pinned to the middle of her sweater and her bangs flip out on either side, caused by a cowlick that will bring dismay to future hairstylists. The trio is the picture of happiness, enjoying the time playing together on an apparently seasonable day. The picture was either taken in early autumn or late spring, judging by the clothes, although all three children are barefoot.

Every time I sit at my desk I glance at the picture and wonder where that Jack-o'Lantern-grin girl has gone. Although her teeth have grown in and she has stopped wearing leggings, she's still the same girl. She still adores her siblings and loves hanging out with them. She still can't wait until winter ends and she can go barefoot once again. She still loves airplanes. But, sadly, she's grown up. No longer can she spend an afternoon on a back porch spinning around in circles trying to make her younger siblings laugh. She has to think about important things like classes and homework and writing news stories and editing and work and finding ideas for creative writing stories and keeping her relationships with all her friends on good terms. She is busy. She is tired. She is ready to be done school. But she is still imaginative. Sometimes she lets her mind wander back in time. With great care, she'll pick up an old story she thought up years ago, blow the dust off, and replay it in her mind. Once in awhile she'll write it down. And that's what keeps her going. The stories, both true and made-up, that come from back then, in her memory, where she was a young girl, happy and innocent, who just loved to make up stories and tell them to her siblings.