so says the narrator of Our Beautiful Child. And he’s been around long enough to know.
with a good supply of beaches and moorland right on my doorstep to keep me
inspired. I live with my husband, two sons, a dog and a cat.
Because for me, my imaginary friend was more of a frienemy. She flipped the script on me more times than I like to remember. She was the one who spun the positives into the practical and I blame her for my now over cautious senses.
Let me give you an example:
When I was 7 years olds (is that to old to have an imaginary friend), I was all excited to go skiing with my parents on the big slope. No more kiddie hill for me. I was going to ski with the grown ups.
I laid out my ski clothes. I checked on my boots and skis. I had my long johns laid out and I was prepared. I got in bed and laid my little head down. As soon as closed my eyes, Sam whispered in my ear.
“Hey Sydney, your gonna fall.”
“Shut up, Sam.” I said.
“Your gonna fall.” she sang.
I closed my eyes tight, trying to block her out, but she just got louder.
“Your gonna fall.”
“Shut up!” I yelled back.
“Go to sleep, Sydney.” my dad yelled from the other room, which shut Sam up for the night. Every time my dad came around, Sam disappeared.
I closed my eyes again and drifted off to sleep with visions of ski wipeouts dancing in my head.
The next morning, I got dress and headed out to the slopes. Standing at the top of the hill, I couldn’t move. I kept hearing in my head, “Your gonna fall, you gonna fall, your gonna fall.”
And, you know what, I fell. All the way down the mountain.
I hated it when Sam was right.
Tell me about your imaginary friend?