This is a story about the day when I stopped believing in magic.
To make it sound less depressing (and to be clear), the animated and visual magic – the sorts shown in Harry Potter or any other Disney movie.
Do not get me wrong – I LOVE Harry Potter – and that part of life, existence and knowledge, I would never exchange it for the sweetest dessert on earth. And, I am a proud Gryffindor, as sorted by Pottermore, although I haven’t visited it in years, ahem.
But the thing is, as a kid, you are shown these movies and you in the end you start to imagine along and believe in them. You really do. I really wouldn’t for sure know everyone’s childhood and for everyone it was a different experience, but, for me, growing up with Disney and other sorts, I started to believe in magic.
Of course I did. I also wanted to be a part of something spectacular. Something that lets you do or be whatever you want. And it would all be so easily gained. But little did I know…
Cinderella. When her step mom and sisters leave her alone at home and she starts to cry and her tears roll down her cheeks and on the ground, they are not shown as tears but a glittering magic, whether out of pure innocence or whatever, it triggers in the presence of her fairy Godmother! I mean wow! for a kid that is like a free ticket to Disneyland itself.
She dresses her, makes her look presentable (she was already pretty in my opinion), she gives her transport, new shoes and just made her night! Magic was just…. Magic.
And so I mimicked that. I did. When my mom was angry with me (that’s a normal thing really, “moms” *rolls eyes*) or for whatever reason it was, when I cried, I cried with that magical belief in my heart, with a sense of surety that the cinderella thing would happen to me as well. I purposely let the tears fall on the ground. They didn’t glitter or sparkle, they just reflected the room’s light. “Still, might work”, I thought. I waited for a swish sound, for the rustling noises of my own fairy Godmother landing with a bibbity bobbity boo, but all that was around me was just the same old room I had cried in. Nothing had happened. Geez. I think that is when Cinderella really started being a boring cartoon.
And then, Aladdin. I wanted a genie. But guess where my beliefs went when I tried to rub a weird looking lamp (and, a table lamp at that- maybe that’s why it didn’t work!). And the carpet – but my carpets were all so lifeless – and are still lifeless.
So when I was old enough and watched Harry Potter, my eyes all wide and my brain amazed with all the hocus pocus and magic – real magic and the honor of being a witch, wearing a cloak, being sorted into houses and going to an all magic school, magic wands and books and your pet! A school that allows pets! The train ride (Hogwarts Express ehem) and the food and the teachers and friends and Hagrid! Unicorns! Dumbledore and McGonagall (Snape was still the bad man in the beginning – anyone who knows Harry Potter like a subject from their literature class would agree to that).
All that was more magical than the magic I had seen as of yet. But then again, I was old enough (or smart enough, I guess) to know it was all, sadly sadly, fictional.
But there was something, about magic and it being on this earth; right here. Whether all that fiction was fake or real, or it just might be that we are simple Muggles, what I believe is, if you look closely, and you have to take time for that (sometimes its hardly even a fraction of a second), you’ll see it in the eyes, the way they sparkle when they hear something extraordinary. Sometimes it’s in the smile. Sometimes, the way a baby reaches out and grips your finger with its tiny, tiny finger. Sometimes, when you start a project – knitting, crocheting or whatever else, when it starts with a single knot of yarn into a beautiful dress or a rug or a table mat.
When you start reading a book; starting with a whimsy character and the first page. While you turn those pages, you are basically travelling into its future. You grow along with the character, come to terms with their world – become the character(s). What it was all before, is now more than when you started. And when the story ends, you can always be sure to come back to the same place, the same situation and the same feelings (sometimes, rather more maturely).
I still do not know what magic exactly is, or how it just comes into existence or whether it has already been there (or then again if we are Muggles), but even after all my heartbreaking scenarios, I know it is there – we just need to be aware of it more than we are right now.