It was a wonderous place, with wizards and goblins lurking in the dark forest. Talking insects who would befriend me while I went on high adventures with my companion. We looked cautiously above for giant birds who would swoop down with their giant talons and try to take us far away. Always on our guard, with dangers lurking around every corner of this mysterious and far away land.
A dark haired, green eyed princess accompanied me into this imaginary wonderland. This was a world of her creation, a place of myth and magic that provided us some respite from the harsh realities of the outside world.
Attentively I sat and listened as she beckoned me forward, her splendiferous way with words could transport me anywhere. Meg had a wonderful imagination and I was completely captivated. She was free spirited and creative, lyrical with her prose and engaging with her manner. Meg was vastly different to my eldest sister who was dedicated, studious and mature beyond her years, troubled by a heavy burden she was far too young to carry. They were both my world and I always felt loved.
Our humble suburban backyard would become a place of wonder and excitement. The galvanized metal slide was a foreboding path deep into the underworld. The plastic swing that hung on rusty steel chains would become a rocket ship that would blast me off into space. The rickety Hills Hoist spun like a magical merry-go-round with brightly coloured horses that galloped into life. The broken fence palings were swords, used to fight away all of the evil creatures that tried to harm us. In the back corner, the eclectic timber shed with all its nooks and crannies and its weathered timber boards, an Aladdin’s cave of treasures. There were adventures wherever I looked.
Meg helped me escape and showed me the colours in an otherwise grey world. I felt invincible and powerful when we were together. I struggled to fit in with other kids as I had seen more in my earlier years than many would experience in a lifetime, reality at times too hard to fathom. I craved normality, but I knew that it would not be possible.
These vignettes shaped my childhood and were the memories I held dear for a lifetime. As families grow and change, Meg and I would eventually tread our own paths, our lives travelling on vastly different trajectories.
Despite the passing years and the continents that separated us, we’d forever remain connected to our mythical world by the irrevocable bonds of family and the fond memories of days gone by.
© T. Zerafa 2023
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Roads less travelled 
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