“I can dig all the way to the center of the earth, Miss Shelby.”
I watch him dig with the plastic shovel, scooping only a few inches of dirt at a time. I’ve only been considered a legal adult for less than a year, and already the realities of the limits in this world have corrupted my mind in such a way that when he says, “I can dig to the center of the earth,” my mind says, “but of course you can’t. Don’t you know that’s impossible?”
No one ever told me my ideas were impossible. When I dreamed of building tree houses with sticks and roots as string, no one called it a bad idea. When I tried every sport under the sun and had dreams of becoming an Olympian in each, no one laughed. When I wanted to skip college and get married and have babies no one (except my grandmother) told me not to.
Now I’m an adult (I’m still in denial) and I still have impossible ideas. I want to travel and see wonders. I want to figure out what my passion is. I want to fall in love. I want to foster babies even if I never do it with a man by my side.
If someone had told me my dreams were impossible all those years ago, my dreams today might look quite different. Instead, though, my mind was allowed to grow, unhindered and unbiased and when I saw something I wanted I could go after it no matter how out of my reach it was. I let the whimsy of my mind drive my thoughts and I came up with extraordinary (laughable) ideas. And regardless of how many of them came to fruition (I’m 0-and-infinity right now), I’m still dreaming, because I know the reality of impossible things.
Impossibly He came and impossibly He died. Impossibly He rose so that I could dream and live an impossible life too.
And that’s exactly what I plan to do.
“Why, sometimes I’ve believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast.” Carroll