when i was little,

i would constantly make up stories. the lady at the grocery store with a flowered hat and a smile as a fairy in disguise; the boy in class with quick feet was a superhero; the bird who whistled in the dead of winter could understand human speech. later i would craft these ideas into stories, figments of a child's imagination. but as always happens, as i grew older, i stopped noticing. san francisco's fog settled over my mind. life became school and homework and facebook, textbooks and blue skies but not hint of rainbow. but i'm fighting it, this sense of complacency. i don't want to lose this gift. not for the sake of pride, but for the sake of turning a tree branch into a sword and a squiggle into a tidal wave. and most importantly, for the sake of sharing it.