...MAYBE THE WORLD WAS BIG ENOUGH TO HAVE MAGIC IN IT. AND IF THERE WAS MAGIC - EVEN BAD MAGIC, AND ZACH KNEW IT WAS MORE LIKELY THAT THERE WAS BAD MAGIC THAN ANY GOOD KIND - THEN MAYBE NOT EVERYONE HAD TO HAVE A STORY LIKE HIS FATHER'S, A STORY LIKE ALL THE ADULTS HE KNEW TOLD, ONE ABOUT GROWING UP AND GROWING BITTER...
ANYTHING WAS BETTER THAN NO MAGIC AT ALL.
(Holly Black, Doll Bones)
I fought growing up as hard as I could. I didn't want to lose my dolls and my imaginary play and my Saturday afternoons of eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and drinking chocolate milk and watching Scooby Doo. I didn't want to let go of the magic I so truly believed in.
The magic I still believe in...and still hold onto.
Sure, it's different. I'm an adult now. (Sort of.) My magic is a little darker. (Although, to be honest, a lot of my imaginary games back then were a bit twisted anyway.) My dreams - and nightmares - are vivid and weird and leave me gasping for breath but also reaching for a pen and paper so I can capture as much as I can before real world issues intrude.
I own a wand from Harry Potter World. A caught baseball from a spring training game sits on a shelf. A mini Lego sea monster guards some signed books. The other day, my husband and I played the "What if...?" game as we ran errands, creating a person and a situation out of midair. If that's not magic, then I don't know what is.
Give yourself permission to believe in magic, to believe in it again, if you've stopped for some reason. Remind someone else that it's out there waiting. Show it to them.
And now if you'll excuse me, I have a peanut butter and jelly sandwich to eat, chocolate milk to drink, and a Walking Dead marathon to watch. (See, I told you I grew up.)