Donna FletcherDonna FletcherDonna FletcherDonna Fletcher


There’s nothing like the imagination of a child. When my son Matt was four, he came to me with a cut on his hand. I asked him what happened. He looked at me and in all seriousness said, “A spider stabbed me with a gun and shot me with a knife.” I had to smile, and I bandaged his hand as he finished his amazing story, of which he was the hero.
My son Marc began his comic book career when he was five, drawing and writing a sci-fi thriller titled The Spacemen vs The Gorgas, which I kept and he has to this day. And my son Tim had an imaginary friend, Harry, who he brought to life by stuffing his own clothes with bath towels. We all got accustomed to him, though borrowed an arm or leg when towels ran out (we always re stuffed him).
We all possess imagination, whether it’s with words; colors music, dance, cooking, design, carpentry, gardening, photography and on and on and on, for imagination knows no bounds.
My imagination often pokes me awake and says – hey, listen to what I have to say. When I’m cooking it will urge me to take a chance, and when I hunt for rocks it’s there in the shapes and marks that tell me different stories.
To me imagination is like air… I can’t live without it!

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