Nobody told me there was anything heartstring-tugging in Bridge to Terabithia. And no, I hadn't read this "classic" children's novel.
Well, OK, I've had my cry for this weekend, thanks.
I'm thoroughly envious of that degree of magical visioning (because no, I don't call that pure imagination), but I think I'm just as happy not to pay that price to have it.
I do remember years back, when I was that age, having part of my own play area include a local brook which did regularly flood, and one crossing route which did involve a rope swing. I fell in more than once, though never from the swing -- only when leaping from rock to rock, usually on the rainy days. (Did you know rocks get slippery when they're wet?) Including one trip where I saw the underside of the ice, far too clearly (yeah, don't stand over the very small hole in the ice, kicking snow into it ... it kinda marks the weak spot).
But my imaginings were less about what I was doing *then*, and more about what I wanted to be doing in the future. Where are the flying cars? How about the Lunar and Martian tourism industries? Shipstone batteries; Oaty-boats extracting all-but-free power from the oceanic thermoplanes; universally guaranteed basics of food, housing, medical care, all the necessities of life?
Meh. Back to the laundry folding. Maybe I'll reawaken my idealism tomorrow.