I’ve been building an imaginary playground in my mind for my inner child Chicken Little. A playground filled with all her favorite things. The first place she goes is the steam winding through the playground. She’s always been drawn to the water. She takes her shoes off, splashes around in the cool water and looks for frogs and butterflies.
In the sky, Chicken Land, the world of her imagination, which she thought was located in the fiery pink and soft lavender clouds around sunset, when there are rays of light shining through. There are lots of art supplies in the playground and canvases. She loves to draw. She draws imaginary characters from Chicken Land like Popcorn, who drives a yellow a Corvette and owns a ketchup factory. She wears her favorite straw hat. There are lots of animals in the playground. Pace, her miniature schnauzer, and Beppo the cockatiel are among them. She doesn’t need much in her playground. She just loves to lay in the soft grass and think and dream. Her imagination is her refuge.
In the middle of the playground is a giant tree with purple leaves, her adult self. There is a yellow tree house high in the branches. There are lots of wind chimes with dangling strings with colored glass, glistening in the warm sunlight. There is a Nintendo 64 inside. Her cousins Nick, Joseph , Gregory, and her sister Chelsea are inside playing Mario Party.
The tree is learning to be present with Chicken Little, to not abandon her. To give her a steady, unconditional love. Her branches lean down and embrace her inner child, and she can feel the wave of relief as Chicken Little’s entire body relaxes. She’s safe now, and her curiosity can guide her as she soaks up knowledge like a sponge, loving life and learning about the world with awe and wonder in her eyes. The tree has a lot to learn from Chicken Little. 🦋💓🌳