I woke up this morning to a world crystallized in ice.
As many of you know, I am not a huge fan of winter, yet, the sight of this silver, twinkling world made my heart light. I continued to make my coffee and sit down in front of the tv for a moment to enjoy the first bit of my cup, which is my normal routine.
When I flicked the tv on, I was compelled to watch a movie. Not just any movie, but because this particular movie was on, I found myself stuck to the couch, enjoying all of the smiles and tears that came with watching this particular story (the name of the movie is not the point, so no, stop wondering, I am not going to mention it.)
Somewhere between the bottom of a cup of coffee, the sound of a still sleepy puppy’s breath and the spotted window pane that separates me from the icy world outside, the following things occurred to me.
I am almost 35 years old. My heart, on the other hand, is hovering somewhere around 6.
I believe in fairy tales. Maybe not the fairy tale ending so much, but definitely all the magic. I know that love is work. I know that prince charming doesn’t actually come in on his white horse and sweep you off your feet and then you live happily ever after. I know that there is no fairy god mother that brings some handsome, romantic prince to your door, and it’s not all candle light and roses. I’m not delusional. But as long as people continue to write fairy tale romances, I think that in their hearts, it exists, the potential is there and people still have the ability to deeply and entirely love another person, and that gives me hope.
I believe in mermaids, magic, and all of the wonder and excitement that comes with them. I believe in glitter, red lipstick, beautiful shoes and all the glamour of the 40s and 50s.
I want to live in a big farm house, with a wrap around porch. Because I think it’s romantic. I think about how I could decorate it for Christmas, or sitting on the porch swing in the summer and feeling the breeze. I love the idea of barn board floors that creak when you walk on them, but only when you are trying to be quiet. I love the idea of big windows in big rooms, that hold years and years of family dinners. Rooms full of laughter and smiles, and memories that fill a lifetime.
I still believe that some people still have the ability to see the beauty in simple things, and that one day someone will see me, and think I’m beautiful, just for who I am and not who they think they can make me.
I still cry during movies, in moments of great joy or sadness. I always thought that these things would change. That I would “grow up” and that I would lose these beliefs for more “adult” ideals. I know now that I won’t. I will always feel this way, and I wouldn’t want it any other way. Because it’s who I am, and there are worse things to believe in than a little magic.