Just My Imagination

I remember the first time I heard the chorus to "Just My Imagination (Running away with Me)."

I couldn't have been very old--probably six or seven. My mom and I were in the car, going somewhere. The ophthalmologist's, perhaps. I didn't pay much attention to the lyrics leading up to the chorus, but when that old-sounding group on the radio started singing, "It was just my imagination, running away with me . . . well, it was jut my imagination running away with me," I found myself convinced they knew who I was.

My imagination, then and now, runs away with me far more often than I would like it to.

It's not, mind you, that I always have a beef against the reality of any particular moment of my life; it's just that the creative side of my brain loves to take things to an extreme. So even the best moments of my life--both as they happen and in the aftermath--are embellished. I suppose this means my imagination likes to create the best possible realities.

In conclusion, let me get a tad confessional: I have never stopped believing in magic. I probably never will. I believe that if I can think it, it can happen. (Not that if I can think it, it will happen. That's an entirely different statement.)

That's the beauty and power of imagination.

---

This post is part of the Blue-Beta Blog Coordination, a continuing series of content coordinated by theme or motif with posts from Gromit of The Dancing Newt, Redoubt of Redoubt Redux, Third Mango of Funkadelic Freestylings of Another Sort, Yarjka of Sour Mayonnaise, and Xanthippe of Let’s Save Our Hallmark Moment. This week's theme: 'Imagination'.