We grew up in the 80s, came of age in the 90s, and still remember when people first started getting cell phones. We’re not even old (are we?) but the childhoods of our youth coincided with walking to the beach with the other neighbor kids without adults. Dipping blue food coloring into the backyard creek to make it dreamy and turquoise (doesn’t work). Candy cigarettes (seriously?) and school lunches that smelled like the back room of a grocery store when the teenage cashier has to usher you to the bathroom. Mud pies and nothing organic.
We weren’t spoiled, and we can verify that by interviewing literally any person who knew us as kids. Fact. But one thing we had in abundance was imagination. We played and played and built and created and designed and recreated and it was all blocks and barbies and broken crayons and the back woods or the front pond or the mile-loop we did on our bikes with our dog running alongside of us. We imagined we were a family (even though we already were one) and we pretended that our cousin was a dog (poor guy). We built forts in the back and dropped our bikes in the front. We iced rope into the sledding hill and built jumps that made us fly through the air and slam our bodies back down onto the earth in a way that would put a good woman like ourselves in bed for days if we tried it again today.
We had so much fun. We used those big imaginations of ours to have all the fun in the world. But the thing about it is that we’re still doing it. We’re still using our big imaginations today – even as grown adults with kids of our own who build forts in the back and drop their bikes in the front – we imagine what it would be like if we got to make things for people that really meant something. If we got to make them a locket with story that was personal to them. With an image that kept them inspired, kept them going or happy or meditating or praying or laughing or moving forward if even an inch at a time. Wouldn’t that be lovely? we thought. Wouldn’t that make us feel really alive?
The Locket Sisters