Do you remember what it was like growing up and believing in the tooth fairy? The excitement and expectation of brushing against the unseen? Of going to bed with hearts filled with hope, and waking with them full of wonder? As children we're taught to cherish the magical world, yet as adults we rarely indulge in fantasy, letting our imaginations grow dull with disbelief. Why is that? Why do we prefer the mundane explanation to the improbable?
We all have to grow up eventually, I suppose, and finding out that our parents actually provided what magic could not takes its toll. Disillusionment sets in. Wariness takes wonder's place. But tell me - how is it any less amazing that my parents were able to feed and clothe nine children (and the occasional extra) on a single, average income and still foster our childhood delight in life? It had to take plenty of hard work on their part.
And that's what I've found it takes on mine to make dreams come true now, though for many years the mystery eluded me. I wanted the fairies back, doing the hard work for me. I wanted to be a child in the responsibility department, and an adult in the perks.
Shoes get made by cobblers, not elves; I see that now. Books get written through long hours at a desk, and sold through super-human effort. Yet...success finds those who toil at what they love. Fame and fortune may be more elusive, but to those who have become fairies themselves, that matters less.
And the world becomes magical once more...