Make-believe

Think back to the last time you began a story with, "I remember when I was a kid . . . " Now, examine the accuracy of that story.

Maybe its a fishing trip your grandpa took you on once or twice. But maybe that trip was so flippin' sweet you'd like to remember it as the highlight of your life every summer as a kid, that is, until you discovered girls and personal hygiene. Or maybe it was your mom's pie. Maybe it really was the best pie ever. Or maybe it was just good pie with a lot of sentiments attached to it.

And it works the other way around, too. Ever listen to someone discuss their failed marriage? It's almost as if all traces of happy memories have been plucked from their brains. We make-believe. We pretend. Its natural. It helps us make sense of things. Memories and feelings are more easily processed and stored when they are consistent.

I have this kid at work . . . and his childhood has pretty much sucked. His family has failed him over and over again. No one wants to believe they are unwanted and unloved by the very woman who gave birth to them. So this kid, he does what we all have done in one way or another. He makes believe. But to the extreme.

He longs for the return of days that never existed, awaits arms that have never held him, and relives memories in his head that never happened.

But he has reached a point, a place of awareness, where the line between reality and make-believe is becoming more and more defined. For most of us, this line is so blurred and inconsequential. But for him, well, he is now facing the truth that his 'real world' and 'make-believe world' are two very different places; and both are crumbling.

We started writing a song together this evening. And it too is called Make-believe. Its such a small, small thing to sit and write with someone.  But I'll make-believe its a big thing, and maybe he will too.