Pussy-tails and fairy-flowers

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Every time I take my girls to kindy, we stop in the laneway to pick flowers. I’m surprised the bushes aren’t bare by the end of the month, but no matter how many times I tell them to leave the flowers on the plants, they pick ‘em anyway. But it’s actually my fault, you see. Because these poor blooms aren’t ordinary blossoms. One bush produces ‘pussy tails’ that, when picked and thrown over your shoulder, grant your wish by the end of the day. Another plant grows ‘fairy flowers’, and when you put them in your pocket, well… the fairies can now find you, of course.

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My girls and I like to wish on dragonflies; we talk to trees and believe in dragons. We hatch baby ‘gum-nut’ babies from their winter sleep, and tell the time using dandelion clocks. When they get ill, we fight the bad germs with food and sometimes medicine; the good germs always win of course. And when they go to sleep at night, I tell them to dream of treasure at the end of a rainbow, puppies that talk and horses that fly. In the morning, they are full of excitement, telling me of adventures they’ve had in their sleep. I’m pretty sure they like to please me. But naturally I don’t mind.

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I’m not sure at what point, if ever, the girls will turn around and tell me I’m silly. But right now, their world is wondrous, and anything they want is possible. And maybe, just maybe, it is.

It’s how I felt as a child, knowing Santa had actually been. That magical moment when my sister and I came downstairs on Christmas morning to see our overflowing stockings and a half-consumed mince pie and sherry; I lived in wonder for the rest of the day. I remember a time when I believed I could fly. I’d stand on the arm of the couch and jump, convinced that next time would be the time. When it wasn’t and I landed on my bum for the millionth time, I simply believed even harder. I’m not sure if I was always this way, or if it was life and my parents who nurtured it. Either way and to this day, I still choose to believe in magic.

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Without faith in a happy ending, without meaning, hope, a greater good and light, what joy is there in living?

Being this type of person isn’t always easy. You see, if fairies exist, then so do monsters. And if monsters exist, then I get frightened. A psychic once told me, in so many words, that my life would not turn out the way I hoped it would; I believed her and it hurt, in ways you can only imagine. Another time, I was told by a gifted friend that my aura was looking kind of “dusty.” I immediately thought the worst and drove home crying, convinced that I was dying a slow and horrible death. I’ve been known to run screaming through the house upon watching a scary movie, convinced a demon was in my loft. And when I was reading ‘The Secret,’ I did things that only crazy people do. Like turning up to a concert without a ticket. Giving my number to a stranger on the train. And believing my cheating ex would come back to me… he didn’t (thank goodness)!

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You might choose to call me gullible, tell me I live in ‘la la land’, or that I’m just plain mad. But I honestly prefer to live this way, rather than seeing the world in black and white. The good always makes up for the bad, I think.

I think the key is to get the balance right, and of course being a parent now, it’s important to stay grounded and somewhat sensible (most of the time). The last thing I want is for my girls to be confused, or ridiculed, or worse. But I can’t help but feel that my job is only to provide the baseline from which they can bounce to the clouds. For see the clouds they must. How else can they view the world? On the ground, there are too many obstacles.

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I want my girls to be curious, to question everything they see and believe wholeheartedly in what they can’t. I want them to view their lives as a great adventure, every single day that stretches before them. And when they’re older, I hope they remember what’s it’s like to be open to possibilities, different ways of thinking, and not accepting a spade for a spade. For surely the greatest minds were never closed to new discoveries.

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So on we march into the magic, past the pussy tails and fairy flowers too. And next time my girls stop to pick the flowers from the bushes, I will tell them their wishes might come true. 

So, what do you believe in?

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