“The bravest person in the world must not have a very good imagination,” she said.
“Hmm, what do you mean by that?” I asked.
“Well, they are probably so brave because they can’t imagine anything bad ever happening. They don’t even know what to be afraid of,” she replied.
Considering this, I asked, “So, would you rather be the bravest person, or the one with the best imagination?”
Without hesitation (and perhaps with just a hint of surprise that I would even ask) she replied,
“The best imagination!
If you can’t imagine the bad stuff, you can’t imagine the good stuff either!
You’d never know what to hope for.
You’d never be proud of yourself, because you could never imagine that you might have failed, or might have been scared.
You’d never learn anything, because you could never imagine there was anything else to know.
Life would be very boring.”
Then she kissed my forehead and rolled over to go to sleep.
I laid there stunned, willing myself to remember every word of what she’d just said, because it was seriously the most profound thing I’d heard in a while.
It is conversations like this one – with my ten year old – that leave me with little doubt that she will ultimately teach me way more about how to live a rich life than I could ever teach her.
She is an impassioned poet,
A writer of love songs,
A bedtime philosopher,
And a giver of infinite hugs.
She is a girl of powerful resolve,
A fiery fighter of injustices (both real and perceived).
She is both the safe harbor and the tempest.
She is one of the most intuitive, profound and complex people I know…
And she’s only just begun.