I find little things hidden in corners around our house on a frequent basis. I love them. Little snapshots of a creative heart.
Gatherings of bits and pieces, huddled together in a bag or box. Each piece chosen very specifically, for a reason and with a story.
For one of our girls this is the way she plays. She is sensitive, tender hearted, a dreamer and imaginative soul…she will retreat to play like this, hidden in a corner of her room, door closed, her story unfolding in a quiet, yet lively voice.
Sometimes I leave her in her own wee world and at others I pursue her, because, in this little stash of seemingly insignificant and unrelated objects there lies a story…a whole tale of what lies within, and I want to hear it. I want a glimpse.
A glimpse of her thoughts, her dream trails. So in depth and full of detail…of imagination.
A child’s dreaming.
And in the day to day, when there are homeworks to finish, and, what often seems like endless lists of things for me to get done…I sometimes pull myself away.
To take a moment to listen to the story, to make space for the dreams.
To place importance on the small things, which are so, so big for my wee ones.