At a very early age I was a believer. Not necessarily in God or religion, but in all things magical and happy, all things that felt like an other-world type of home. The tooth fairy, Santa Clause and Hans Christian Anderson's fairy tales were much more relatable, hopeful and promising in comparison to the god I learned about in Catholic school. However, as we all know, there comes a time when reality's icy cold hand slaps you in the face and tells you to wake up. In actuality that's when one really starts dying, isn't it? Oh, the deceitfulness of evil's subtle ways!
It seems there's this space between childhood and our senior years that is full of responsibility, joy, fear,hope, despair. There's no time for magic or even happy endings. We're focused on survival and keeping children alive.
As a person in my latter years, I have changed so much since I was wide eyed and innocently naive. I believe those fairy tales and loving make-believe givers of gifts all pointed to a bigger power...THE power. Most of the time I feel as though I'm walking around with no real hope, especially lately in this country of mine. Walking around in my own head with nothing but questions.
Then, there will be a book, a piece of poetry or a song that stirs something deep in my soul. It feels a lot like homesickness, but it's a good feeling because it tells me some power, THE power, loves me and that I'm not far from home.
"Some day you will be old enough to start reading fairy tales again." CS Lewis
