Time flies…

When did I get so old?

When did life become numbers and charts and measuring up? When did I stop believing?  I think it might have been yesterday.  Or the day before.  It might have happened a million times, but if you clap, children, Tinkerbell can come back to life.  You can save her.  You know, if you save her, you’ll save yourself too.  I heard your wings beating feebly beneath your business casual attire.

I heard life is magical.  And from time to time, I think I catch a breath of that fairy dust.  You tried to clean it up, sweep it under the rug.  Lord knows, it will wreak havoc on the children’s asthma.  But you didn’t know that I’ve heard of hope.    An old man passed me a treasure map with a compass rose pointing to Beauty-North, Love-East, Justice-West, and Peace-South.  He walked with a limp, but his eyes looked trustworthy.

I saved the fairy dust that you tried to hide.  It’s in a small bottle tucked behind my matches and old letters.  I could get it out, you know.  It might come in handy if you wanted to follow that map.  It might be dangerous but Tinkerbell drank the poison for Peter.  She didn’t die.  And maybe I won’t either.  Maybe we can believe enough to stay young forever.

When did I get so old?

I think it was the moment I stopped laughing.


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