When my sisters and I were young, everything was an adventure. Our swing set was an elaborate sea vessel, in precarious relationship to the pirate ships that roamed in our back yard. Our carefully constructed lean-to was the site of ultimate survival on a desert island. Our chores were done in castles, to absolute perfection, never daring to disturb the queen and king.
Now everything is pragmatic. The afternoon consists of calculated activities, schoolwork and jobs that adhere to a strict schedule, devoid of imagination. Make-believe has been usurped by aspirations for the future that we will never allow to slip into the confines of a simple fairy tale.