Since the day words spilled from her tiny lips, my daughter Caroline proved she had an unlimited imagination. Once she had told this long story about the world beyond the storage room beside one of her classrooms. Two of her teachers would always slip inside and disappear for a long time before tumbling out fixing their clothes. Of course, I laughed at her innocent thoughts, knowing what really was going on and only warned her that if she went to explore this room, she may get lost too. Then I would never see her again.
Her father accused me of passing down my imaginative genes, however, I beg to differ. He was just as lucid minded as I was, with his impending thoughts about the end of the world and how aliens lived amongst us in invisible forms.
"Only the children can see them," he grinned as we poked at our desserts last night at the dinner table. Our daughter had bopped her head of curls agreeing.
"Oh really?"
"Yes honey. Only if they believe in it with all their hearts."
"I don't mind imagination Jed, but there's a fine line between reality and unreality," I said, waving my fork in the air like a wand. "If you cross it then there is no return."
"Are you saying one would go crazy," he said, making a silly face at Caroline. She laughed and made a face back.
When I would write my stories or type feverishly on my desktop, I knew they were not real. I had many paths to take towards a great number of endings. And even then, I knew when to shut that door and return to reality we called life. My stories were always so wild and free and could be believable if God had created such things like dragons, elves, magic wands, and talking animals.
I stared at my computer screen, a smirk crawling onto my face. I could hear my husband calling me by a new nickname all day yesterday. And did my daughter laugh and join in on the fun.
Dull Brain has no sense of humor. Dull Brain can't imagine like we do Caroline, he'd joke.
And in return, I punished him by refusing to have sex with him last night.
Take that for dull, Jed!
Running footsteps thumped pass my office door followed by my daughter's giggle.
"Caroline, stop running," I said, breaking free from my desk. I slid my feet into my cushioned slippers and made my way down the hall to her room.
I walked in on her talking to the air, half out of breath, and a wide smile on her face.
"Caroline, what are you doing?"
She turned her grin to me, revealing the two missing top teeth. "Playing with Skipper," she said.
"Oh, okay. Try not to run through the house and don't break anything," I said.
In this house, we knew once we opened our minds to free our imaginations, it's best to give the other some space. Who knew what masterpiece could form from one minute of free thought and absence from the world?
I retraced my steps to my office down the hall and within minutes I was indulged in the story I was writing. A story, short and funny, to entertain a child's sweet heart. About an hour in with eyes burning from being glued to the computer screen, I heard a crash. Before the squeal followed, I was already running down the hall. I burst into Caroline's room and gasped. The neat room, which I had cleaned earlier that morning, now displayed its own type of natural disaster. Her Barbie lamp was on the floor, cracked and shattered, bulb flickering within its bent shade.
"Sweetheart, what did you do?"
Jaw hanging, Caroline said, "We're sorry mommy. We were wrestling and he jumped on me."
"It's okay," I said with a slight frown. I made my way through the maze of clutter to pick up the shards from the lamp.
Then she screamed. I jumped around, heart leaping into my throat. "What is it?"
"You left the door open. Now Skipper is loose." Without one look in my direction, she sprinted from the room. "Come back Skip!"
"Caroline," I said to no avail. I quickly picked up the shards and dropped them into her tiny princess trash bin.
I paused as I picked up the bin, noticing globs of brown hair lying about the floor. I sighed with annoyance. Caroline told me once, she'd like to be a hairstylist. I couldn't find any scissors or the poor doll with a terrible haircut, so I stuffed the globs into the trash bin and exited her room to dump it in the bathroom's larger can.
I heard a constant sound of thumps downstairs and paused to listen. The thumps continued only to be followed by two lighter ones. A giggle echoed from one of the first-floor rooms. I placed the bin down and made my way downstairs, yawning upon every step.
"Caroline, what is that noise? Where are you?"
She sprinted around the corner from the living room, laughing and trembling to the bones. "I'm right here mommy. Did you see him run pass?"
"Who, sweetheart?"
"Skipper, duh," she giggled.
"Uh...Who's Skipper?"
"My dog. That's what I named him?"
I shook my head only to catch myself. She was imagining the dog and I being her mother could not ruin her joy. So, I nodded.
"Yeah sweetheart, I saw him take off into the kitchen," I said, and she took off.
"Skipper! Skipper! Where are you?" She then squealed, "I found you."
I chuckled. For months now, Caroline had been wishing and asking for a dog. Not a puppy, to my surprise, but a full-grown dog with a lot of blue hair. When I told her there were no such thing as blue dogs, she refused to believe it. I told her maybe one day we can buy a dog, but not any time soon. Jed, of course, was on her side and said a dog would be a great addition to the family. They saw fun and I saw more work to do. A five-year-old girl was already enough to raise.
I then remembered her messy bedroom and the tiny unseen shards embedded into the carpet. I sighed and slouched my stiff shoulders.
"More work to do," I grumbled, shuffling my feet into the kitchen to grab the vacuum.
I halted in my steps, wide eyes glued to the floor. Somehow, the dust bag had been ripped out of the vacuum leaving piles of dust all over the floor.
"Oh Caroline, what did you do?" I shouted, feeling my blood on the verge of boiling.
I grabbed the broom and dust pan and knelt to gather the mess. I paused again, furrowing my eyebrows, and squinting in disbelief. Amid the dust were large dog paw prints.
Speechless, I rubbed my eyes wondering if it would disappear. When they didn't, I considered the fact that I was exhausted from staring at the computer. I had to be.
"Caroline! Come here. Now!"
When she did, she giggled and pointed at the mess. "Uh oh Skipper's in trouble now."
"Sweetheart, we don't have a dog. How did this happen?"
"Mama, we do have a dog. His name is Skipper."
"We never bought a dog, sweetheart."
"Daddy must've bought him for me."
My churning gut told me the silly man would do something like that. Pull a slick move behind my back to abide the wishes of a cute princess. But I shook the thought away, realizing if he had snuck a dog into the house, it would've greeted me by now. It would've been nipping at my fingertips and toes and following me about the house begging for something to eat.
"No, he didn't. Caroline, you cannot replace being naughty with your imagination," I said. "How about you come and help me clean this mess up."
"But mama, I didn't do this. Skipper did," she said, scratching her head and scrunching her nose.
I massaged my forehead and forced a calm smile. "Honey, we don't have a dog."
Her eyes glazed over with tears, but my strong daughter held them back and pressed a smile. "But we do now... Don't be mad at me."
"I'm not mad. I just don't like you making up stories when you're in trouble."
"But I'm telling the truth. I woke up this morning and wished for a blue dog. Then it came into my room."
I tilted my head to the side noticing she wasn't lying. Usually, when my daughter lied, she'd rock side to side, unable to keep still.
"If we had a dog, don't you think I would've seen it, heard it, bought it at some point?"
She gave a bright smile. "You have to look harder. You have to believe it, mama."
"Oh, I see," I said, realizing she was toying with me.
As much as I wanted to be annoyed, I couldn't. Not only was she unbelievably cute, but her innocent imagination was contagious. I couldn't help myself but play along. How amazing it'd be to wish for something and for it to appear? I'd wish for that new stove Jed's been promising to purchase all year. I'd wish for my stories to already be published and on bookshelves and in eBook libraries.
"Fine. If we have a dog. Then tell Skipper I'm going to teach him that vacuums are not to be played with."
Caroline giggled. She came, wrapped her arms around my neck, and pecked a kiss on my cheek.
"I'll teach him myself so you won't get rid of him. He will be a good doggie," she grinned.
"Mhm," I said.
"Why don't you come and meet him?"
"Let me clean this up first and then I'll come and meet Skipper."
"Yay," she shouted and sprinted off into the family room.
I shook my head. A blue dog. I glanced at the clock on the wall. It was almost noon. I did need a break from my computer and already I could feel a slight headache forming. Playing along with my daughter for a while shouldn't hurt.
A blue dog... I bet it's big and blue with floppy ears. What if it could fly like Dumbo?
Picturing this strange dog brought a tickle to my heart. Maybe I should give in and let Jed buy a dog?
A single bark erupted through the house.
The dustpan dropped from my hand. I froze. Caroline giggled.
"What was that?" I muttered.
I rose to my full height, shivering to the bones in shock of what my ears had heard.
Maybe she has the television on, I thought.
Another bark shook my feet to move faster. That didn't sound like the television, but we didn't have a dog. I recalled what my daughter had said about wishing for a blue dog and my skin began to crawl.
With the broom still in hand, I crossed the hallway and entered the family room. The television was off, and a husky pant slipped into the silence. My eyes fell upon my daughter Caroline sitting at the window seat. Her back was to me as she leaned on the air, whispering and giggling. I closed the distance prepared to see the unbelievable. At that moment the sun's light showered upon her and the air grew warm with an unforgettable presence. I gasped feeling my burning eyes cross the line of no return.
Sitting comfortably under her arm was a blue shaggy dog.
THE END