I was always told that my imagination was a gift that was so amazing that it could accomplish anything. Still till this day I hold true to that message. Yet, as the years have gone on I look around and see that is not the case for most.

This past week I traveled to one of the most magical places on Earth – Disney! A place where a childlike imagination should be visible at every turn. However, to my dismay, imagination must have called off sick that day. Looking around the environment, that should have been dripping with excitement and wonderment, the daily hustle and bustle gave a crushing realization that the children present were not enthralled by their surroundings in any way. Kids of all ages seemed more consumed by their iPhones, instead of the magic that was right before them.

I admit my heart sank.

A place that was created for childlike hearts to roam free had become nothing more than a day at any normal amusement park. It was crushing.

Yet, finally a glimmer of hope came to shed some light when my eyes spied a young girl, no older than two or three, coming to watch the enchanting birds of Disney’s Enchanted Tiki Room. As the lights dimmed I watched as this precious child looked on in wonder, for there it was – instantly there was the magic, the amazement as she watched the characters of the show talk and sing.

The happiness that came over her as she danced and clapped at the sounds and the colors of the show was a breath of fresh air. Perhaps imagination was not totally out for the day.

It’s amazing how such magic as what I have described is now taken for granted. Yet, it is always true – magic can always be found through the eyes of a child. In knowing that, perhaps there is still time to keep that imaginative light burning within those children that still hold that power of believing. If not the flame will fade away until it finally goes out. At that time the world should weep, for once the imagination is lost it can never be regained.


About J.R. Robinson J.R. Robinson lives in Northern California with her epic husband and rock star daughter. Raised in the lower part of Michigan in the town of Monroe, she was an only child throughout much of her adolescence, a latchkey kid who learned the true magic and power of the imagination. A writer since the age of nine and a teller of many tales, J.R. Robinson is a believer, above all else.

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