Something reminded today me of the short film ‘The Red Balloon’.
I smiled and asked anyone and everyone in the near vicinity if they had seen it. No one had.
I was shocked!
What a classic.
I explained the premise and went on to add that when I was younger – when the helium began to exit my balloons, I’d pretend they were following me.
Why do I share these things?? We’d already established they hadn’t seen the movie, how does ‘I pretended my balloons were following me’ not sound completely insane??
Anyway, this did start a walk down memory lane for myself and a co-worker.
She shared that she was convinced her toys had parties when her eyes were closed.
She would open one eye ever so carefully in hopes of catching them in the act.
That suddenly reminded me of a very similar childhood memory.
I had placed a tooth under my pillow and awoke to not only a coin, but a little note from the tooth fairy!!
Tiny, scratchy letters explained that explained that I was to be granted one wish.
Looking back, I’m thinking that was a really risky experiment on behalf of the letter writer – depending on what I wished for. What if I really wanted an elephant??
I was loosing baby teeth for crying out loud – my head was so far in the atmosphere no balloons, red or otherwise, could reach me – my wishes were pretty out there.
I wrote back to the fairy … my wish?
I wished that my dolls and stuffed animals could come to life.
I walked to school the next day with a friend and excitedly told her that by the time I got home, probably my toys would already be alive!!!
I could not WAIT!
You know – I don’t remember much more than that.
I don’t remember being disappointed that it didn’t happen either …
I reckon I just figured she had something more important come up – or perhaps my mom confessed.
Either way – I was filled for a brief time with a magical feeling and such innocent excitement.
It was that time in my life when I believed with my whole heart such things were possible..
I just called and asked my mom about this. I asked her how she handled my wish … she said she moved my toys around in the night so that when I woke up, they would be in different spots.
I don’t remember that.
I then asked ‘What if I had asked for a pony??’ to which she replied ‘Well, I’d probably have got one for the day and then explained that it couldn’t stay.’
This is where I get my love of magical things from.
This is why I chewed up carrots and spat them out on the porch so my son would believe in reindeer … why I sprinkled glitter around the fireplace then walked through it to leave jolly boot prints.
Probably why I write and certainly why I love to read.
And definitely why I still believe anything is possible.
P.S. I just received an instant message from her as I was about to hit ‘publish’ it reads: “Oh, by the way, I deny writing the letter, the tooth fairy really did do it.”
I’m finding my fears are directly proportional to how much I am capable of loving. The more I grow, spiritually, intellectually, emotionally, the more I fear. And I wonder how that can be?
I know that the opposite of fear is faith – I know that fear is unhealthy. I know this, and yet I am scared.
For me, this is also growth. When for years (other than my son) I didn’t fear losing something, not caring enough to be afraid – this is growth.
Faith I can work on.
The ordinary seems more ordinary to me lately. All the childhood dreams and hopes I had for myself are keeping me up at night. I want the fantastic. The magical. The fairy tale.
For years I did not believe anymore. Like a wide-eyed audience member discovering the secret behind a magicians trick – such disappointment.
The past few years I have been finding my own magic. Slowly. And finding myself open to believing again. Then out of nowhere, as if a reward for opening my eyes, destiny put more in my path.
I think my fear stems from not wanting to suddenly see another trick revealed.
No, I do not want to sit in naivety. But to have wonderment at what life can bring – to be surprised and to feel anything is again possible – I want more than anything.