A pebble, tumbling across a concrete path, goes before them, like a tapping herald. But the ones it foretells don't keep to the path for long; the wide field that stretches on either side is far more interesting. And so they go to explore it instead, spreading across in twos or threes.
Some make for the playground that juts from the ground not too far ahead, colored red, white, and blue as if Captain America's outfit had been stretched across it. One or two head for a few trees that cling to life in the rocky soil of the Texas plains. A few more simply find a place of almost-shade and sit down, studying the ants that clamber through the dirt, or trying to scrabble together enough sticks, bits of bark, and plastic detitrus to cobble together a rough hut that, in an imaginary world, is a home to tiny beings that look quite a lot like humans.
In the midst of this rifling through the close mysteries of creation, one discovers a big blue beetle, all shiny shell and knobby legs, queerly crooked and gangly, a glimpse at an alien world in the midst of a human one. There is a momentary shock at the sight of it, as instinct takes over until the one considers for a moment and scoots back a bit, watching as the alien shuffles into its new home. It shuffles right back out again, working its way up the trunk of the tree that the house rests against, but the alien is a good addition to the pretend world built up around the house, and so he becomes the tenant.
Another, one of those who found their way to the playground, has discovered a friend. Together, the two are chasing one another across a metal bridge become a castle's drawbridge, waving sticks that are transformed into swords possessed of magical abilities. But in the next breath, they are hunters in a jungle, chasing after a dread creature that casts terror into every villager within a hundred miles. Another blink, and they are aliens, swaying their way across earth to tear apart a city hastily constructed with a few scuffs of a sneaker in the gravel on the ground.
And in their imagination, all of them are great adventurers.
You are never too old to set another goal or to dream a new dream. - C. S. Lewis