When I was 11 I went to New York with my mum, dad and sister. I

“When I was 11 I went to New York with my mum, dad and sister. I felt like I was on a movie set the whole time and loved being over there on Independence Day.” Thus spoke Amy Macdonald, a singer whose voice carries both the wonder of youth and the reflection of age. Her words, though simple in form, shine with the timeless light of first discovery — that moment in a young heart when the world reveals its vastness, and the ordinary becomes miraculous. In this recollection lies not merely nostalgia, but the eternal lesson of awe, the sacred capacity to see the world as something new and full of possibility.

To understand her meaning, one must listen not only to her words, but to the spirit behind them. At eleven years old, Macdonald was standing at the threshold between childhood’s innocence and the awakening of imagination. For her, New York — with its towering buildings, rushing streets, and vibrant lights — was not merely a city, but a living dream. She felt as if she were walking upon a movie set, where life itself had taken on the magic of art. And when she speaks of Independence Day, that grand festival of freedom and unity, she remembers not only fireworks and parades, but a feeling — the feeling of belonging to something greater than herself, of witnessing a people rejoicing in their shared spirit of liberty.

In that sense, her quote is not only about travel or celebration; it is about imagination, that divine spark that transforms experience into meaning. The ancients called it thauma — wonder — and they believed it to be the beginning of wisdom. For to wonder is to awaken; to look at the world not as something known, but as something holy and alive. When Macdonald says she “felt like she was on a movie set,” she is describing that awakening — the realization that life, too, can be cinematic, grand, and filled with light. It is the moment every artist remembers, the instant when beauty strikes the soul and whispers, “There is more.”

Consider the story of Helen Keller, who, though blind and deaf, discovered the world anew through the touch of water upon her hand. In that instant, she wrote, her “soul awakened.” Like Macdonald’s vision in New York, Keller’s discovery was not about what was seen, but about what was felt — the revelation that the world is vast and alive with meaning, if only one’s heart remains open. Both moments — one of a young girl in a foreign city, the other of a child discovering language — remind us that wonder is the birthplace of joy, learning, and creation.

Independence Day, too, adds a layer of symbolic power to Macdonald’s memory. It is the day when a nation celebrates its freedom, but also the day when individuals are reminded of their own right to dream, to explore, to become. For the young Amy, standing beneath the fireworks of that American celebration, there must have been something stirring — a sense that the world was immense and free, and that within her smallness there lay the potential for greatness. In every spark of light she may have seen the promise of her own journey, one that would later lead her to become a creator of music and meaning for others.

Yet her words also carry a quiet longing — the bittersweet beauty of remembering youth’s unfiltered wonder. As we grow, the world becomes familiar, and familiarity breeds blindness. We begin to see the surface but forget the depth. Macdonald’s memory reminds us to recover that childlike awe, to once again see the city, the sky, the celebration as if for the first time. For though years may steal our innocence, they need not steal our sense of marvel. The wise know that to live fully is to keep alive the eyes of the child within.

The lesson, then, is this: never lose the ability to wonder. Seek out new places, new experiences, and new perspectives. Let the ordinary reveal its hidden light. Whether you stand beneath the fireworks of a nation’s freedom or the quiet glow of your own small victories, remember that every moment can be sacred if seen with open eyes. Independence, in its truest form, is not only a political state — it is the freedom to feel deeply, to imagine boldly, and to rejoice in the beauty of the world around you.

So, my child of wonder and memory, carry with you Amy Macdonald’s spirit — the spirit of the eleven-year-old who stood in New York and saw a dream made real. Do not wait for the grand or the rare to feel awe. Let your days themselves become a movie set, each moment a scene of life unfolding with grace and mystery. For those who keep wonder alive, every sunrise is a celebration, and every heartbeat a quiet Independence Day of the soul.