Fairy Tales

I want to write fairy tales.

I want to forget about realism and believability and practicality.

I want to write of princes and knights and princesses and queens.  I want to write of little girls who see magic and grown women who make magic and couples who become magic.

I want to write tales of Christmas stockings overflowing and birthday wishes come true.

I want the once upon a times and the happily ever afters and the lands far, far away.

And I guess that perhaps it’s because some days I feel vulnerable.  Some days I feel small in a big, big world.  Some days I feel as if I have left my protective armor in the closet and I must face the world, naked and alone and supremely vulnerable.

And to give your open, naked self to this cruel world is scary.

And so perhaps that’s why I want to hide away in a land of make believe.  Where I don’t have to pretend that we all don’t secretly wish for the happy ending.  Where I can forget the cruel lessons of life.  Where I can believe that magic can happen with a little bit of belief.

Because once upon a time we all believed.

And once upon a time we forgot.

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