:quality(70)/cloudfront-eu-central-1.images.arcpublishing.com/irishtimes/D2UZGUM3UEEWRDKFMPNE25ZUWM.jpg)
I’ve spent a lot of time over the past year lolling on the oversized sun lounger that sits on my balcony. I’ll nestle between the crowded plant pots and flapping clothes horse, and shut my eyes and listen to the children playing below.
“Okay, now pretend my feet are ten foot long,” one will shout.
“Okay, now pretend my feet are ten foot long and my toes are made of spaghetti.”
“Okay, now pretend my whole body is made of spaghetti and my head is the Milky Way.”
:quality(70)/cloudfront-eu-central-1.images.arcpublishing.com/irishtimes/6LBMFPTC7NA7I67BLZHXD7PGRI.jpg)
:quality(70)/cloudfront-eu-central-1.images.arcpublishing.com/irishtimes/M5SY3IMMZZARYDKUAB3UBVRP44.jpg)
:quality(70)/cloudfront-eu-central-1.images.arcpublishing.com/irishtimes/D4ODCYSZBMSPF5JYIZ5ZFHZQ2Q.jpg)
:quality(70)/cloudfront-eu-central-1.images.arcpublishing.com/irishtimes/XVIGRPYL6AX3MLBF6K2HFUCOMY.jpg)
The children below my apartment block have vivid imaginations. It’s easy to while away hours in the squinting afternoon sun, listening to them play, eschewing whatever work needs to be done. Often, I will bring a book out to accompany me on the sprawling wicker lounger, but my reading is quickly cast aside in favour of the stories playing out below me.
I’m wondering what I would do if I had 10-foot long feet when a friend calls.
“Hey,” she says, “Any news?”
“The guy in Daybreak didn’t charge me for my oat milk today,” I exclaim.
“Oh yeah?”
She starts to tell me about her day but I'm not listening. I'm choosing what colour to paint the cottage I'm now buying with the man from Daybreak. I'll plant window boxes in the spring. Begonias. I see our tabby cat nestle into the flowers as raincoat-clad tourists take photos for their Instagram accounts. What will we name our organic grocery shop?
I’m wondering if fuchsia would be a good colour to complement the window boxes. Or lilac...
“Brigid?”
“Sorry, I’m listening...”
My games might be different from those of the children in the courtyard below, but my imagination is no less vivid.
Girl band
I’ve always had a Very Big Imagination. When I was in primary school, I was in a girl band called The Blues Sistas. We sang vehemently about break-ups and being kicked out of home. My 11-year-old heart splintered as I choked out the lyrics: “My husband’s left me all alone/ I’m sitting here crying at home.”
My Very Big Imagination came with me to secondary school. While other teenagers stood by the back lane smoking cigarettes, we would entertain ourselves by pretending our friend had been chased by a rabid squirrel and was now stuck up a tree. “Help!” we would proclaim to a herd of worldly sixth-years. We would march them outside only to reveal a giddy first year giggling by the trunk of a blushing cherry tree.
Government restrictions may ask us to remain within the bounds of our county borders, but the bounds of travel in one's head are unlimited
As we move through adulthood, our imaginations evolve. They age as we do. Although, I think my body passed mine out. It becomes less about spaghetti legs and more about the speeches you will make when awarded Best Writer There Ever Was, Who by Chance Has a Dazzling Personality.
Since March of last year, my Very Big Imagination has become even bigger. When my neighbours don't appear for their usual lunchtime balcony slot, my imagination concludes they are in Dubai getting their teeth fixed. I pass a house with music playing and I'm immediately projecting myself in a sweaty Spanish nightclub with a bar-branded fedora slipping down my brow. Someone likes an old post on Twitter and suddenly I have another new boyfriend.
Advantages
Having a Very Big Imagination comes with advantages and disadvantages.
A Very Big Imagination enables us to flee this Beckett-esque existence we have found ourselves in this past year, and reach alternative realities where pubs and holidays and friends exist. Government restrictions may ask us to remain within the bounds of our county borders, but the bounds of travel in one’s head are unlimited.
However, a Very Big Imagination can also make you think you're in love with someone. It can cause you to think you're having a Very Big Fight. It might make you think you are very beautiful or very ugly or have a spectacular sense of humour. You see, when you have a Very Big Imagination, your imaginary world can trespass into what is known as The Real World. You start to believe the tales that little storyteller is enacting in your brain.
But more than anything, a Very Big Imagination passes the time. Which, after 114 consecutive days of Level 5 lockdown, certainly has much to offer.
“You’re on Earth. There’s no cure for that,” wrote Beckett. He obviously didn’t meet the children in my courtyard below.
If feeling the ennui of this tedious existence, take a lesson from them.
Pretend!