"stars rain sun moon
(and only the snow can begin to explain
how children are apt to forget to remember
with up so floating many bells down)" -e.e. cummings
There are many things in this world that go unnoticed. There are many people who seem to only seek further knowledge on the things they are familiar with, the things they can see, the things which they can prove. Thankfully, there are still young children who can push past these boundaries. Children dare to envision colors, sounds, even whole worlds that lie in the tiny cracks no others dare to tread. It is with this in mind that we travel on…
"Jo! Jo! Where are you Jo?" The frantic cries of Ms. Delaney echoed in the early Sunday morning, searching for her 6-year-old child who had already taken off into the suburban neighborhood. Ms. Delaney, at this rate, was having about three near heart attacks a day, and as Jo grew older, was pushing for a fourth.
"Jo Rebecca Delaney, you come back here this instant!" she screamed desperately down the street, hoping it would fall on one specific young ear. Jo, however, was still nowhere to be found. Some of the neighbors were poking their drowsy, stocking-cap heads around their doors, wondering what all the ruckus was about at so early an hour. Ms. Delaney, however, had long lost the respect of her neighbors. Enough mornings of a similar nature had assured this. Ms. Delaney peered down the street and at last spotted two pigtails bounding up the road in her direction. She sighed, then walked over to Jo, who was skipping and grinning just as easily as if she had been doing it every day of her short life, which she basically had.
"Hi Mommy!" Jo sang out, her voice dripping with innocence and harmony, "Look what I found this morning!"
She shoved a dandelion into her mother's hand, scattering seeds on her mother's skirt as she did.
Ms. Delaney smiled a tired smile that seemed to come effortlessly in these circumstances.
"Oh, honey, that's lovely. I'll bring it inside." Absentmindedly she took hold of Jo's tiny hand and led her back to the house. She was aware of the disapproving looks that were boring into the back of her head as she trudged home, but she was too busy mentally preparing herself for the battle to come: namely, the day.
Once inside, Jo dashed into the kitchen, her mind all ready to take in the next adventure. Idly, she hummed and twirled in the cramped kitchen as much as she could.
"Jo," Ms. Delaney said through clenched teeth, "you've already caused enough trouble today, don't you think? Why don't you just go to your room and color or something?" She sank into a chair at the kitchen table, her head falling right into her hands.
Jo stopped twirling and stared at her mother, hurt.
"But Mommy, look outside! I've made a new friend. Can't you see him? His name is David. He taught me a magic spell and I have to spin around like this ten times, otherwise it won't work." With that she waved to the front lawn, which was empty save for the assorted toys scattered here and there.
Ms. Delaney looked out her window and sighed once more. "Jo, please. Mommy's not in the mood for this."
"No really, Mommy! He's there, just look harder!" Ms. Delaney could feel Jo's indignation radiating from her voice, so to prevent a full blown tantrum, she humored her daughter and looked outside.
"Oh, you mean THAT David," she said with false enthusiasm. "I just didn't see him clearly before, but now I see him, right out there." She pointed out the window where she thought her daughter would believe that she saw something.
It wasn't where David was apparently standing.
"Mommmmeeeee, that's not where he iiiisssss." whined Jo, stomping her foot. "Don't pretend you see him when you don't. He doesn't pretend to see you, does he?"
"I don't know, hon, because there's no one out there."
"YES THERE IS!" Jo screeched, tears streaming down her face. She turned on her heel and ran outside, leaving the front door wide open. Ms. Delaney could see her through the window, standing in the yard and crying for the whole world to see. Ms. Delaney begrudgingly stood up and made to go out the door, but as she watched Jo, she stopped for a moment. It didn't appear that Jo was crying anymore. In fact, she was talking. Ms. Delaney watched as her daughter continued to have a conversation with thin air, and continued to watch as she started to laugh and spin once more. Ms. Delaney started to feel a tiny flame of anxiety ignite in her chest, worried about her daughter and what might come of this. She had heard of children who had imaginary friends and grew up to be basket cases. They never let go of their imaginary friends, or had troubles in society when it came to interaction. Ms. Delaney made a silent note to monitor this new development, and continued to stare as Jo twirled around the lawn, head thrown back to embrace the sky.
That night at dinner, Jo set an extra seat for her new friend. "David likes spaghetti, Mommy. He says thanks for letting him sit here at the table too."
"I'm glad to hear he likes spaghetti…" Ms. Delaney said half-heartedly. She really wanted this all to blow over, and soon. It wasn't like Jo was in desperate need of a friend. She certainly had her playmates, and Ms. Delaney felt she was a pretty attentive mother. She thought, however, it might have something to do with Jo's daddy leaving when Jo was five. Jo never complained, but Ms. Delaney had still noticed that Jo had gotten much more reckless and disobeyed far more often than not. Jo would also drift off and imagine the craziest things, such as pink dolphins that sang her to sleep, or trees as tall as mountains where fairies built their homes. Frankly, it worried Ms. Delaney how often Jo came in from a day of playing with her pixie friends and inventing potions that would make her "fly". Ms. Delaney, however, had tried to be a good sport and had put up with all of it. That is, until Jo now.
"Mommy, David wants cheese on his spaghetti. Lots and lots, he says."
"Jo, I'm not giving David any spaghetti. Only people eat spaghetti."
"Mommy, David IS a people. He's magic, Mommy, but he still wants spaghetti. He says spaghetti gives him extra strength to do magic, and I really, really want him to make me a fairy. Pleeeeeease give him spaghetti. He'll eat every bit."
"Jo, please!" Ms. Delaney blurted out finally, "I've tried to be reasonable and let you have your fun. I've tried to be a good mother, so I didn't say anything when you told me dolphins could sing, or trees could be as tall as mountains, or little girls could fly, but dammit Jo, I can't let you keep imagining these things. They aren't real! None of it is! The sooner you realize that, the sooner you'll be able to just GROW UP."
At that she pushed away from the table and stormed out of the kitchen, but not before she could get a glimpse of her daughter's face, which had crumpled like a napkin.
Ms. Delaney stormed right into her home office, where she immediately reached for the telephone book and started frantically flipping through the pages. It was time to nip this thing in the bud.
"Ms. Delaney, I understand where you're coming from, believe me. Too many times I come across children who spend their days with imaginary friends and not nearly enough time with their studies, or even real people. It makes me think what they'll be like as adults in working society…probably leeches who absorb honest money to blow it all on booze and drugs. Makes me shudder."
"So we're agreed?"
"Yes, I think it would be a very good idea. What days are best for you?"
"Well, I work at the community college, so weekdays aren't the best for me. What about Saturdays around 3:00?"
"That sounds good for me, too. Don't you worry, Ms. Delaney, we'll get this all straightened out for you in no time."
I want to know what the outdoors SMELL like, what the air in the house FEELS like--everything. You don't have to go over the top with poetic descriptions, but a little more would be nice. 
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