Unicorns and fairy godmothers are such
magical beings. Even as an adult, I secretly believe in their existence. I’ve never seen a unicorn except on pyjamas, bed sheets and in Harry Potter movies. Fairy Godmothers are also in my imagination from Cinderella, other children’s stories, and very likely pyjamas and bedsheets. All imagined and sketched, reminding us that they are always with us. They seem to lift me off the pages of story, fly me away from reality - even if just for a moment. No fairy godmother has appeared at my door with a gift or has floated through my house sprinkling fairy dust. Rather plain old dust lies on my furniture quietly waiting for a magic wand to whisk it away.
This Hobbit House is in need of a touch-up! |
We adults must create our own magic as we lose our childhood ability to believe in shining silver/white unicorns and winged fairy godmothers. On the gray days, we can paint Easter eggs or make a hobbit house from a rock. On a sunny spring day - which today is not - a simple dandelion under my chin would tell me I like butter. I still like butter so I guess the dandelions were right! I suppose the magic is not explaining away twinkling star shine but just being in awe of the night sky. And if the crescent moon is riding high I’m sure I can see Peter Pan lounging in its curve. It is easy - too easy - to just accept the reason behind it all and yet keep looking for the meaning of life. When I go down that rabbit hole, I stop believing in unicorns and fairy godmothers. There is no longer the butter yellow magic I held under my chin. So I go outside and laugh with children playing. Or this evening, I watch outside as glittering snowflakes fall magically turning the spring brown and dusty land white and clean. And I remember catching snowflakes on my tongue, never caring if someone saw me or not. I might just do that tonight - as long as no one is watching.
“We are not always what we seem, and hardly ever what we dream.”
~ Peter S. Beagle, The Last Unicorn
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