Four Year Old Magic

Me in super cool pink glasses I picked out for myself

“Mom, mom,” I exclaimed, while wheeling my tricycle all over the kitchen. “I want to go to Disney Land. That's my dream.”

“Maybe someday,” she replied calmly. “Disney Land costs a lot of money.”

The phone ringing interrupted our conversation and my mom left to answer it.

When she came back, she had an odd expression on her face: “Apparently our friends from Arizona have an extra ticket to go to Disney Land. They want you to go with them.”

As our boat glided through the water, my eyes widened. It was mostly dark except for glimpses of treasure in the water. Gun shots rang out, and I startled in fright as we passed figures of pirates who loomed by the sides of our boat.  I clutched my lollipop close to myself to keep it safe from being stolen as we progressed through the terrifying passageway. I closed my eyes and shrank away, frightened that I was about to be murdered by pirates. When I opened my eyes next, we were in a restaurant eating lunch far away from the terrifying passageway. I was glad I was still alive. So happy was I, that when we walked back outdoors, and I spotted Goofy nearby, I ran up to him and gave him a hug.

“I want you to have my postcard,” I insisted.

“For me?” Goofy said, pointing at himself, and complied by taking the postcard I was waving at him.

I smiled at him: “For you.”

Going up on the Dumbo ride brought shrieks of protest from me: “Why do I have to sit on an adult's lap?” I exclaimed, quite self-assured at how grown up I knew myself to be, “It isn't fair!”

And as usual I received the typical adult comment of, “Life isn't fair. Get over it.”

Disneyland parade

Even now that I am much older I still cannot help but feel sorry for younger children over the unfairness of life. I suppose I have a better memory of the injustices of being little than most older people do. But I also have a more vivid memory of the magical events that happen at the most unexpected times. I have never been able to lose my ability to see magic everywhere, even outside the scope of a world built off of fantasy.

Our Last Outing

I, Queen Trystam Aoife Aryanna, ruler of the elves stepped into the river densely covered with grass. Behind me the Cottonwood trees formed a thick, barely impenetrable wall. Both my sisters, Gwen and Robyn, accompanied me in this hidden Elvish location within the land of Theria. Only the elves knew how to navigate the maze among the trees.

“Arya,” Gwen cheerfully said, “There are crawdad in these waters. I brought the net along so we could fish them out and make crawdad stew for supper.”

A sense of sadness lingered in the air. This was to be our last outing together before Gwen journeyed to the land of Ilundar to be crowned as the Queen.

Robyn immediately suggested we find spaces among the trees to prepare places for us to sleep during the night. We went at this with a will. In the water, I pulled my knife out and began hacking at the long grasses, which would make a soft covering to sleep upon. Both of my sisters went back up the bank and began clearing out spaces amidst the dense Cottonwood trees to sleep in. They took branches from the trees and laid them out on the earthen floor, and I clambered up the dirt bank, my feet accumulating mud, and brought them the long grasses. Then, we covered the branches in a dense mat of grass. Once satisfied, we returned to the water with the net to hunt for crawdads.

Gwen pulled up a dozen or so, and I returned up out of the river to build a fire. Robyn and Gwen followed behind with the metal pail full of crawdads.

As we chopped up herbs to go into the stew, I looked about the hidden place.

“I'll miss you Gwen,” I said. “Ilundar is very far away.”

For us, this was a place where time halted for a while. The world went on around us, but here we were unaffected in the quiet solitude of the trees.

I retreated for a moment to try out our grassy beds. Lying there, I could see the blue peeking between the green of the leaves about me. The sun sparkled through leaves. It was a beautiful moment caught in time.

Returning to them, we sat and joked and laughed and talked of our past adventures and wondered about the adventures to come. Soon Robyn would take over the headship of Theria and I already governed Narnuen. We were splitting from our path together, soon to each take our own destination. The moment was sobering and hopeful. And I all I knew was that my carefree days as an elf were soon to be over, taken over by the responsibilities of an Elvish Queen.

All pictures taken by the lovely Queen Robyn aside from sunshine through the leaves of a tree.

A Lonely Embrace

He looked me in the eyes slowly: “Are you absolutely sure you're ok with this?”

I paused, and glanced upward at a heaven filled with distant stars, and all I could think of was him. And how he wasn't sitting next to me. Seeing the vastness of the universe made me feel very far away from him. I was lonely and I was heart broken. All I wanted to do was escape for the moment.

“Yes,” I said in my expressionless voice, turning towards him again, “I'm sure.”

He cradled my face in his hands and leaned in to kiss me, and all I could think was that only stupid sixteen year old girls went off alone with guys they didn't really know. I wasn't scared though. Excitement made me feel alive, and in my barely kept up dead state, even emotion with no depth was better than nothing.

His lips were soft against mine, and he wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me down against the ground beneath him. I could feel the rocks poking at me, but I didn't care. I wanted to lose myself in the warmth of someone else. My face betrayed the emotionless I felt.

“Are you ok?” he asked.

“Yes, yes,” I assured him.

He leaned back in towards me, and I analyzed everything. I was not there. I rose outside of my body, up towards the sparkling stars, to watch the experience, and my body did not know how to respond. With only my brain to clunkily figure out how to react, I was left feeling like a very dull robot.

He laughed, “You really haven't ever kissed a guy have you?”

“No,” I whispered and I stared up at the stars again, melancholy filling me.

He guided me through, giving me instructions, unsure what to make of a girl whose face showed little emotion. And he was not in the moment enough to coax my brain to let go, so I simply enjoyed the empty touches, allowing them to obfuscate my sadness.

But when he finally turned away to leave after thanking me, I felt the void settle in. There was no comfort to be found in empty kisses. All I longed for was the hug of a friend who would hold my brokenness and not condemn me. Someone who would not shame me for what I feared were dangerous emotions that I could never destroy.

Picture from: http://www.forestwander.com/

One New Mexican Day

The day I met Alberto was a clear, sunny December day. I had seen him often from a distance riding a bike with a stereo mounted in a basket beneath his handlebars, playing all the local New Mexican tunes. I was walking up the hill towards my house at the same time as he, so naturally we fell into discussion.

He was an older man in his fifties or sixties, and not much taller than my height of 5'5”. He had a tanned, weather-beaten face, probably from hours spent walking and biking in the hot New Mexico sun.

As we passed rows of dingy trailers, their roofs covered with tires, he spoke in a slurred voice, barely intelligible: “I've lived here my whole life,” he said. “Long before there were paved roads in these areas. All of my familia lives in these houses.”

I nodded and he continued, “It's tough work on an old guy like me to walk all over this town. I get winded walking up this hill. But on Father's Day several years ago, I got my first DWI, so I went to my daughter Emma, I went to her and told her to sell my car so that it would never happen again. Now I just ride my bike.”

“Ah,” I murmured sympathetically, “That is sad.”

“It's good exercise,” he continued. “You know some of these houses are haunted. Mi hermana lives in a haunted house. I've seen the ghosts in them.”

Then he chuckled: “Nobody believes me. They say I was just high. Perhaps I was. Perhaps I was. It's hard to tell.”

We were nearing the top of a hill now.

“Are you ready for Christmas, mija?” he asked.

I laughed: “No, I've spaced Christmas.”

“I have a poor memory,” he said. “I'm not ready either.”

I laughed appreciatively: “It doesn't feel like Christmas time anyways. It's a warm sunny day.”

He turned towards a long dirt drive way with single wide trailers at the end.

“This is where I live,” he said. “Do you live near?”

“I still have a ways to go,” I said. “But it was nice talking to you.”

“Have a good day,” he said. “It was nice talking to you. I have nothing to do but go back and watch TV.”

I watched him as he walked down that dirt driveway with his bike. One of the single wide trailers had been blown apart in a heavy wind storm. You could see the interior now, where the walls and roof had been blown apart. As I stared, a shiny, bright yellow Camaro shot past me and turned down the driveway he was walking down. I shook my head at the sight. It looked completely out of place. Slowly I turned towards home again, walking past the broken pieces of beer bottles scattered along the pavement.

Ever since then, Alberto calls out to me when we pass and says hello. He thinks my name is Jennifer, and I have never bothered to correct him. Not surprising I guess, that a blonde would get called Jennifer, nor is it surprising he would call me that considering he was in his prime during the seventies and eighties when Jennifer was a very popular name.