Once upon a time, a girl awoke from a not-so deep sleep to find that, as hard as she might have wished it, the world did not change over night.  All of her dreams did not come true.  Nothing magically transformed in the hours where the night’s darkness pressed against the glass of the windows.  It never did.

If sheer will had have been enough, the girl’s room would have dissolved into nothingness, and reassembled itself in the shape of her dreams.  But it wasn’t enough.  It was never enough.

The girl rolled over onto her stomach, burying her nose in the pillow she held; she closed her eyes against the sameness.  It was then that she breathed deeply, and smiled.  She smiled because of the magic.  Magic changes everything.  It always does.

You might read that and laugh it off as a silly slight of fancy not worthy of another thought.  And that’s totally fine by me.  Before you go, though?  Just let me say this to you.  If you don’t believe in magic, even just a little bit, I kind of feel bad for you.

There is magic in the world.  I don’t mean the kind of Harry Potter magic that has everyone running around yelling Alohomora at the locked door to the parents liquor cabinet.  Although, I can see where that might come in handy.

There is magic happening around us all the time, but the real trick is to open up your eyes and see it.

That stomach flippy feeling you get when you see someone, that’s a kind of magic.  The friendship that blossoms out of nowhere, the one that feels like it was there all along?  What would you call that, if not magic?  The warm rain that falls out of a seemingly cloudless sky, making you want to stand in it and let it drench you.  So very magic.

Unless there is thunder and lightening, in which case magically whisk me away to that safe spot under my blankie, got it?

There is a split second when something magical happens that we all know it’s magic.  But we deny it, because magic is deemed the realm of the child, or the dreamer.  So what?  What the hell is so wrong with that?  There are plenty of things that we enjoy as a child that can still be enjoyed now.  Star Wars, anyone?

Why can’t we feel the same way about the magic?

Magic is real.

I know it.

The magic hides between waking and sleep;
between the day and the dream
a spell.

The magic hides between the heart and the mind;
between the tear and the smile
an incantation.

The magic hides amongst what we see and feel;
woven in the dream and the reality
an epiphany.