When I was a girl, in the spring and summer, there would be little tiny blue flowers in my back yard. They grew in little clumps, and never grew as tall as the dandelions or clover, no matter how many times I tried to save them from the lawnmower.
When Annie was playing on the computer, or reading, or over at a friend’s house, sometimes I’d go out into the yard and pick some of the flowers and put them in my hair. And I’d imagine myself becoming small, so small I could use a dandelion as an umbrella in case it rained. And I would become a Fairy of the Blue Flowers.
I never did anything important as a fairy. I was never a princess, there was never a plot to my story as a fairy. I would simply explore my back yard through the eyes of a fairy. Sometimes I would just lay in the grass, soaking up the sun, pretending that the sun was dappled by blades of grass in front of my eyes.
It was so simple. It was so, so simple, and so relaxing.
I wish I could go back to that.
This post really has no point other than for me to remind myself of a time when I was less lost than I am now. Sorry about that.